FOOL 
OF 


JULIAN 


A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 


BY 

JULIAN   HAWTHORNE 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  1896 


Copyright,  1896,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


NOTE 

"  A  Fool  of  Nature  "  was  written  by  Mr. 
Hawthorne  for  the  competition  of  stories 
instituted  by  the  New  York  Herald  in  1895, 
and  obtained  the  first  prize  of  $10,000. 


20463SO 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I  PAGE 

BEFORE  DINNER, i 

CHAPTER  II 
THEY  ASSEMBLE, 17 

CHAPTER   III 
DINNER 3° 

CHAPTER  IV 
THE  HOBBY  HORSE 50 

CHAPTER  V 
MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT, 77 

CHAPTER  VI 
Two  VOICES, 94 

CHAPTER  VII 
SILENCE 115 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VIII  PAGE 

AN  ESCAPE, 132 

CHAPTER   IX 
NATURE  AND  EDUCATION, 153 

CHAPTER   X 
AN  ITALIAN  INTERLUDE 166 

CHAPTER  XI 

NEWS  FOR   MURGATROYD, 1 86 

CHAPTER   XII 
SOCIETY  ETHICS, 200 

CHAPTER   XIII 

RlSDON   HAS  HIS   REWARD, 2l6 

CHAPTER  XIV 

UNDERCURRENTS, .    243 

CHAPTER   XV 

THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  is  WHEN  NOTHING'S 

LEFT  TO  HOPE  FOR, 260 

CHAPTER   XVI 
So  RUNS  THE  WORLD  AWAY 276 


A   FOOL   OF   NATURE 


A  FOOL  OF   NATURE 


CHAPTER   I 

BEFORE    DINNER 

Murgatroyd  Whiterduce  is  supposed  to 
have  come  into  this  world  on  the  i3th  of 
November.  One  and  twenty  years  later 
Pynchepole  Whiterduce  gave  a  dinner  in 
honor  of  his  heir.  Some  eighteen  of  the 
leaders  of  society  sat  down  to  table. 

Despite  the  irreverence  of  progress,  there 
is  still  something  sacred  about  dinner.  It 
is  one  of  the  few  ceremonies  of  civilization 
to  which  reverence  is  still  accorded.  Why 
is  this?  Possibly  the  explanation  might  im- 
peril the  ceremony. 

Its  continued  sway  may  be  due  to  its  sym- 
bolic character.  Dinner  is  man's  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  dependence  upon  his  envi- 
ronment. It  shows  the  microcosm  assimi- 
lating the  macrocosm.  If  he  did  not  eat 


2  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

his  surroundings  they  would  devour  him. 
The  personal  soul  derives  its  integrity  from 
the  impersonal  element  wherein  it  subsists. 
But  I  can  ignore  society  only  under  penalty 
of  being  annihilated  by  it.  This  is  the  phi- 
losophy of  dinner. 

The  Whiterduces  had  ever  dwelt  on  the 
summit.  Knock  on  the  doors  of  early  Eng- 
lish history,  and  from  within  murmur  echoes 
of  Whiterduces.  Their  escutcheon  has  been 
stainless.  Even  at  that  remote  epoch  when 
they  still  retained  arboreal  habits,  they  were 
all  gentlemen  and  ladies.  Under  the  sway 
of  monarchical  ideas  their  virtue  and  ability 
had  opened  to  them  avenues  to  rank  and 
power,  but  a  refined  pride  had  prompted 
them  to  hold  aloof  from  the  rewards  of  royal 
favor.  The  trappings  of  the  courtier  might 
obscure — they  could  never  enhance — their 
serene  but  substantial  dignity.  They  could 
brook  no  title  less  noble  than  that  of  Whiter  - 
duce.  They  stood  aside,  indifferent,  while 
York  and  Lancaster  shrieked  and  struggled. 
They  neither  helped  nor  hindered  the  First 
Charles  in  his  vain  career.  Beside  their 
serenity,  how  vulgar  appeared  the  conflict 
of  Court  and  Commons.  The  Whiterduces 
strove  with  none,  for  none  were  worth  their 


BEFORE  DINNER  3 

strife.  Loyal  to  themselves,  monarchs  nor 
demagogues  might  intrude  on  their  reserve. 

Cromwell  died  without  having  made  any 
impression  on  this  family,  and  about  the 
time  when  the  Second  Charles  was  boosted 
to  his  throne,  they  looked  their  last  on  Eng- 
land over  the  high  poop  of  their  westward 
faring  bark.  In  America,  an  undistributed 
kingdom,  they  may  have  anticipated  a  sort 
of  secluded  sovereignty — not  civil  and  re- 
ligious liberty  exactly,  for  had  they  not  al- 
ways owned  themselves  ? — but  freedom  from 
creatures  outwardly  like  themselves,  but  in- 
wardly how  alien  and  impossible. 

The  stern  rigidity  of  Puritanism  little  in- 
commoded them  ;  they  in  their  own  fashion 
had  always  been  Puritans.  The  austere 
cloak  and  frosty  bearing  sat  easily  on  them. 
Without  obviously  deviating  from  the  com- 
mon path  they  held  a  way  of  their  own. 
They  acquired  over  their  crude  neighbors 
the  irresistible  because  spiritual  ascendency 
of  attitude,  silence,  impartiality.  But  the 
offices  of  authority  in  the  little  community, 
often  tendered,  were  as  invariably  declined, 
with  a  gentleness  that  veiled  the  scorn. 
What  value  had  the  Judges'  Bench  or  the 
Governor's  chair  for  those  who  must  step 


4  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

down  to  occupy  them?  They  remained  a 
race  of  gentlemen  and  ladies,  pure  and  sim- 
pie. 

True,  they  must  perforce  submit  to  the 
common  human  necessity — they  must  take 
wives  from  the  depths  beneath  them.  But 
they  did  this  frankly  and  uncomplainingly. 
She  who  became  wife  was  translated;  her 
life  (so  far  as  the  Whiterduces  recognized 
it)  began  at  the  moment  she  first  crossed  her 
husband's  threshold.  As  for  the  children, 
only  the  elder  son  was  regarded  seriously. 
Second  sons  were  rare  in  the  Whiterduce 
genealogy,  and  they  were  never  known  to 
marry.  The  daughters  might  wed,  if  they 
chose ;  but  in  that  case  they  spontaneously 
dropped  out  of  sight,  like  objects  fallen  from 
a  balloon.  In  any  event,  the  first-born  son 
held  the  most  august  position  open  to  mor- 
tal ambition — he  was  heir  of  the  Whiter- 
duces !  The  day  of  his  majority  was  not  so 
much  a  festival  as  a  sacrament. 

Yet  we  must  not  regard  this  family  from 
too  esoteric  a  point  of  view.  They  were 
flesh  and  blood,  and  admitted  as  much. 
They  did  what  others  do — ate,  slept,  spoke, 
smiled,  bowed  (they  did  not  shake  hands). 
They  trod  the  streets  and  laid  their  bodies 


BEFORE  DINNER  5 

in  the  cemetery.  They  kept  in  the  back- 
ground the  fact  that  inwardly  they  were 
nevertheless  unique.  They  never  dreamed 
of  asserting  themselves — of  "  putting  folks 
in  their  places. ' '  Virtue  that  needs  protec- 
tion is  no  virtue ;  exclusiveness  that  fears 
ordinary  contacts  is  fragility. 

No — but  to  be  intimate  with  a  Whiterduce 
that,  if  you  inquired  into  the  matter,  was  an 
unknown  experience.  None  indeed  could 
be  more  graciously  accessible  than  they; 
they  were  hospitable,  affable,  encouraging, 
even.  They  used  not  the  stony  stare  of  vul- 
gar exclusiveness.  You  detected  no  conde- 
scension in  their  steady  tones ;  you  were 
welcome  to  their  house  and  conversation. 
All  there  was  serene,  orderly  and,  appar- 
ently, unconcealed ;  no  oubliettes  nor  cup- 
boarded  skeletons.  A  simple,  cultivated, 
respectable,  self-respecting  American  family. 
Yet  the  eye  of  a  very  Vidocq  would  fail  to 
find  that  nameless  thing  that  makes  human 
intimacy.  Upon  this  polished  surface  the 
feet  of  a  fly  would  slip.  Your  visit  over, 
whether  it  had  endured  twenty  minutes  or 
as  many  years,  your  departure,  you  felt, 
would  leave  no  trace.  There  was  nothing  to 
find  fault  with ;  you  could  find  nothing  to 


6  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

ask  for  that  had  not  been  spontaneously  ac- 
corded you  already. 

We  might  speculate  as  to  whether  any 
Whiterduce  had  ever  been  familiar  with  him- 
self or  with  the  members  of  his  own  family 
circle.  Nay,  what  might  be  their  attitude 
toward  their  Creator?  Respectful  congrat- 
ulation, was  it  ?  A  fair  earth,  a  sublime  uni- 
verse had  He  made — and  an  occupant  there- 
of worthy  of  them  and  of  Him  !  Moreover, 
since  a  long  time  had  passed  since  the  form- 
ing of  the  original  Whiterduce,  and  the  race 
had  constantly  improved,  by  this  epoch  they 
must  needs  have  reached  a  point  perhaps 
very  little  lower  than  ...  In  short,  after 
the  Divine  Initiative  had  done  its  best,  the 
Product  had  taken  its  own  development  in 
hand,  and  to-day — behold !  So  we  may  think 
of  the  prayers  of  a  Whiterduce  as  having  the 
character  of  friendly  consultations,  and  his 
religious  worship  as  the  manifestation  of  a 
sincere  regard,  remotely  modified  by  a  rem- 
iniscence of  indebtedness.  But  intimacy 
.  .  .  ?  Let  us  drop  the  speculation. 

Each  age  has  its  spirit,  which  the  Whiter  - 
duces  reflected.  We  are  at  this  moment 
democratic  and  spiritual :  and  the  Whiter- 
daces  of  to-day  are,  accordingly,  more  suave- 


BEFORE  DINNER  7 

ly  friendly,  more  exquisitely  intangible  than 
heretofore.  Having  passed  honorably  but 
undemonstratively  through  the  era  of  the 
civil  war,  they  found  themselves  in  an  at- 
mosphere of  peace,  prosperity,  invention,  re- 
finements, and  of  capital  versus  labor.  Now, 
wealth  a  Whiterduce  must  always  have,  as 
the  sun  brightness ;  the  wave  of  civilization, 
sweep  it  never  so  fast,  must  ever  bear  them 
on  its  crest.  Only  the  more  considerate  and 
indulgent  were  they  toward  the  world.  The 
present  head  of  the  house,  Pynchepole  Whit- 
erduce, appeared  a  model  of  the  wise,  charita- 
ble, kindly  millionnaire,  whose  family  tradi- 
tions forbade  him  the  State  House  or  the 
White  House,  but  did  not  prevent  him  from 
according  counsel  intelligently  sought.  His 
was  a  mind  which  looked  beyond  immediate 
conditions  to  future  contingencies,  and  could 
indicate  the  course  of  final  expediency. 
Though  his  family  scruples  withheld  him 
from  the  directorship  of  the  great  industrial 
enterprises  of  the  nation,  yet  he  was  willing 
to  enlighten  public  judgment,  at  need,  by 
the  investment  of  a  loose  million  here  or 
there.  As  for  the  dispute  between  capital 
and  labor,  he  smiled  at  it. 

"  They  are  fighting  phantoms,"  he  said  ; 


8  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  neither  really  wants  what  it  imagines. 
The  worst  luck  either  could  meet  with 
would  be  to  gain  its  end.  The  true  desid- 
eratum is  .  .  ." 

Political  economy  has  no  place  in  this 
story.  And,  if  Pynchepole  Whiterduce  knew 
what  the  desideratum  is,  that  is  enough ;  we 
may  safely  trust  the  consequences  to  him. 

The  Whiterduce  way  of  life  was  neither 
ascetic  nor  voluptuous.  Cool  and  unpretend- 
ing it  was,  and  elegant  it  could  not  but  be. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  are  not  to  fancy 
it  oppressively  formal.  The  Whiterduces 
grudged  not  the  manifestation  of  social 
charm  ;  an  entertainment  at  their  house  ren- 
dered other  entertainments  vulgar;  the  at- 
mosphere was  rare,  perhaps,  but  it  would 
not  do  to  call  it  uncongenial.  Your  host 
was  careful  to  veil  your  inferiority  with  the 
subtlest  tact — to  make  it  wear  the  linea- 
ments of  a  personal  attraction. 

The  following  query  was  once  propound- 
ed at  the  St.  Quentin  Club  :  "  What  would 
Pynchepole  Whiterduce  do  were  a  guest  to 
put  his  feet  on  the  dining-table  ?  " 

"  What  a  soap-bubble  does  when  you  put 
your  finger  through  it,"  said  old  Roger 
Hemynge,  the  lawyer. 


BEFORE   DINNER  9 

"  The  feet  would  wither  away,"  said 
Stukely  Poyntell,  the  literary  critic. 

"  Whiterduce  would  smile  his  kindliest 
and  say,  '  The  best  service  one  can  do  to 
culture  is  to  emancipate  it  from  prejudice,'  " 
was  the  reply  of  the  novelist,  Verinder 
Vyse. 

The  club  applauded  the  latter  solution; 
but,  after  all,  it  was  only  Verinder  Vyse's 
opinion.  Pynchepole  Whiterduce  himself 
would  probably  have  handled  the  problem 
differently,  and  if  differently,  then  better. 
Verinder,  as  Aubert  Frewin,  the  artist,  re- 
marked, was  a  wit,  but  Pynchepole  was  a 
Whiterduce. 

Once  in  each  generation  society  held  its 
breath;  a  bride  was  being  chosen  for  the 
Whiterduce  heir.  Aubert  Frewin  said  it  re- 
minded him  of  the  Aztec  custom  of  selecting 
a  maiden  for  the  service  of  the  god  ;  she  was 
treated  like  a  divinity  during  the  period  of 
probation,  but  at  the  end  of  it  was  laid  upon 
the  altar,  the  priest  cut  out  her  heart  and 
she  was  burned. 

"  The  intended  of  a  Whiterduce,"  object- 
ed Stukely  Poyntell,  ''can  have  no  heart, 
and  must  be  too  cold  to  burn." 

General   Stepyngstone   knocked   the  ash 


io  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

from  his  cigar  with  his  ring  finger.  "As  a 
description  of  the  present  Mrs.  Whiterduce, 
Poyntell,"  he  remarked,  "  that  seems  to  lack 
your  usual  felicity." 

Mrs.  Whiterduce,  in  fact,  had  been  a 
belle  in  her  day,  was  still  handsome,  was  un- 
derstood to  be  a  model  wife  and  mother  and 
tireless  in  charities. 

"  I  remember  her  as  Arabella  Murga- 
troyd,"  said  Judge  Hemynge,  from  the 
other  side  of  the  fireplace.  "  Damned  fine 
girl ;  more  than  one  young  fellow  after  her 
in  those  days  —  eh,  Stepyngstone  ?  ' '  and 
there  was  a  sharp  twinkle  under  his  bushy 
brows. 

The  General  lifted  his  chin,  and  changed 
his  pose  from  one  long  leg  to  the  other. 
"Yes?  Dare  say,"  was  his  only  rejoinder. 

To  them  at  this  juncture  enter  the  Rev. 
Christopher  Plukerose  Agabag,  pastor  of  the 
Church  of  St.  Sacrosanct.  The  members  of 
the  St.  Quentin  Club  were  drawn  from  all 
elements  of  society,  only  they  must  be  unex- 
ceptionable in  breeding. 

The  old  Judge  eyed  the  divine  critically, 
as  representative  of  a  constituency  outside 
of  his  jurisdiction.  "Well,  parson,"  quoth 
he,  "  how  is  Heaven  getting  on  ?  " 


BEFORE  DINNER  n 

The  reverend  gentleman  smiled,  drawing 
off  his  gloves,  with  elbows  squared  and  ele- 
vated, his  smooth-shaven  comely  counte- 
nance dimpling  rosily  on  cheeks  and  chin. 

"  Too  fast,  I  fear,  for  some  of  us,"  he  said. 
"  Why?  Are  your  desires  thitherward?  " 

"  It's  a  winter  resort  the  Judge  is  heading 
for,"  observed  Verinder  Vyse. 

"  Sh-sh  !  "  whispered  the  man  of  God, 
gathering  up  his  pendant  black  coat-tails  and 
sinking  gently  into  an  easy-chair. 

"  The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  within  you," 
muttered  Frewin,  chewing  his  beard  ab- 
stractedly, communing  with  himself. 

"Only  when  your  digestion  is  in  order, 
my  boy,"  sighed  Vyse. 

"  Gentlemen,  permit  me  to  change  the 
subject,"  said  Agabag.  "  I  have  just  come 
from  the  Whiterduces." 

"From  Heaven's  antechamber!"  said 
Vyse. 

"I  bear  news,"  the  clergyman  continued. 
"  Murgatroyd  is  to  marry  Isabella  Sharing- 
bourne. ' ' 

General  Stepyngstone  turned  his  back 
upon  the  company  and  thoughtfully  drove 
his  boot  heel  into  a  log  upon  the  hearth. 
Then  he  turned  again. 


12  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"Touch  the  bell,  will  you,  Hemynge?" 
he  said. 

The  Judge  applied  the  end  of  his  square 
middle  finger  to  the  ivory  button  in  the 
wainscot.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence 
before  Stukely  Poyntell  said, 

''Then  we're  safe  for  another  thirty 
years  !  " 

"  With  your  leave,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
General,  as  the  waiter  appeared,  "  I'll  order 
a  bottle  of  wine.  We'll  drink  the  health  of 
the  young  couple." 

"  I  shall  join  in  that  toast  with  pleasure," 
observed  Agabag,  arching  his  white  fingers 
beneath  his  chin.  "  Miss  Sharingbourne  is  a 
charming  young  lady.  Murgatroyd  is " 

Here  Aubert  Frewin  emerged  for  a  mo- 
ment from  his  habitual  abstraction.  Said 
he,  "  Do  you  know,  Murgatroyd  never  im- 
pressed me  as  being  a  genuine  Whiterduce; 
I've  always  felt  there  was  something — I 
don't  know — human  about  him." 

Vyse's  laugh  had  a  touch  of  envy  in  it. 
"If  you  were  ever  awake,  Aubert,"  he 
said,  "  you  might  get  the  credit  of  the  good 
things  you  say." 

"  If  he  were  awake  he'd  never  say  them," 
said  Poyntell. 


BEFORE  DINNER  13 

"  Murgatroyd  has  the  making  of  a  man  in 
him,"  the  General  declared. 

"  But  not  of  a  Whiterduce;  I  agree  with 
Frewin,"  quoth  the  Judge. 

"  Now,  I  protest !  "  exclaimed  Agabag  in 
his  rich  voice.  "  Pynchepole  Whiterduce 
is  a  man  of  men — an  honor  to  the  city  and 
to  the  nation.  It  may  be  he  shows  the 
world  too  exclusively  his  intellectual  and 
aesthetic  side  ;  but,  trust  me,  such  qualities 
have  their  base  in  a  nature  profoundly  hu- 
man. The  powers  of  most  of  us  are  dissi- 
pated in  superficial,  even  sensual  pursuits; 
but  Whiterduce  husbands  and  concen- 
trates. ' ' 

Just  there  a  silver  salver  with  a  glass  of 
champagne  on  it  came  into  gentle  contact 
with  his  left  shoulder,  and  the  servant  mur- 
mured, ' '  Beg  pardon,  sir  !  "  The  clergy- 
man's eyes  dismissed  their  gazing,  pulpit 
expression,  and  sparkled  pleasurably.  "Ah 
— yes — yes — thanks  !  ' '  came  from  him  in 
dovelike  cooings.  He  took  the  glass  dain- 
tily by  the  stem,  and  held  it  deftly  at  a 
seemly  distance  from  his  blooming  visage, 
while  the  waiter  completed  his  rounds, 
finally  emptying  the  bottle  into  the  Gen- 
eral's glass. 


14  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

The  latter  then  met  the  converging  glances 
of  all,  nodding  slightly,  and  said, 

"  Gentlemen,  here's  to  our  worthy  young 
friend,  and  the  excellent  young  lady  who — 
er — of  his  choice  !  ' ' 

They  drank. 

The  General  then  wiped  his  gray  mustache 
with  his  silk  handkerchief,  saluted  the  com- 
pany gravely,  and  stepped  out  of  the  room, 
snugly  buttoning  up  his  black  Prince  Albert, 
and  communicating  a  rhythmic  swing  to  his 
long,  military  legs. 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  the  wine,"  re- 
marked Vyse,  thoughtfully,  "  but  I'm  sure 
I  don't  see  the  necessity  of  our  celebrating 
that  young  animal's " 

Pontell  gave  a  well-bred  groan.  "  Oh, 
he'll  have  a  million,"  he  said.  "  I  hardly 
can  say  I  know  the  creature;  I've  seen 
him;  he  does  look  like  a  reversion  to  a 
more  human  type.  Is  it  true  they  couldn't 
get  him  through  college?  Well,  Miss  Shar- 
ingbourne  took  a  double  first,  didn't  she,  to 
make  up  for  it  ?" 

"  The  gray  mare  will  make  the  running  in 
his  case,"  assented  Vyse.  "By  the  way, 
why  does  the  General  take  so  prominent  a 
part  in  the  congratulatory  ceremonies  ? 


BEFORE   DINNER  15 

Does  he  come  in  for  a  commission  on  the 
deal?" 

"  The  commission,  if  there  was  one,  was 
paid  long  ago, ' '  put  in  old  Hemynge,  with 
his  saturnine  grin.  He  added,  "Ask  the 
parson  ;  he's  the  father  confessor." 

The  Rev.  Plukerose  Agabag,  whose  medi- 
tations had  apparently  been  transporting 
him  to  the  thymey  walks  of  Paradise,  was 
thus  recalled  to  himself  and  the  world.  He 
rose,  with  an  elastic  movement  of  his  fine, 
full,  well  -proportioned  figure,  and  smiled  be- 
nevolently. He  said  he  had  some  visits  to 
pay  before  dinner.  "  I  suppose  we  shall  all 
meet  to-morrow  at  our  friend's  birthday 
celebration  ?  "  he  added,  as  he  smilingly 
withdrew. 

"He'd  make  a  portrait,"  said  Frewin, 
presently. 

"Paint  him  as  the  Aztec  priest  with  his 
hand  on  the  young  girl's  heart ;  he'd  pose 
for  that, ' '  said  Hemynge. 

"  Which  young  girl  ?  "  demanded  Vyse. 

"  Paint  her  from  a  composite  photograph," 
returned  the  incorrigible  Judge. 

"You're  a  bad  old  man,"  said  Vyse, 
twisting  his  long,  red  mustaches.  "  Unless 
you  reform  I  won't  associate  with  you  any 


1 6  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

more,   and   posterity   will   consign   you   to 
oblivion." 

"Will  it?  Then  you  must  have  put  me 
into  your  forthcoming  novel,"  retorted  the 
eminent  jurist,  whereupon,  in  graceful  ac- 
knowledgment of  his  discomfiture,  the  nov- 
elist pressed  the  magic  button  and  bade  the 
attendent  genie  take  the  gentlemen's  orders. 


CHAPTER  II 

THEY   ASSEMBLE 

The  persiflage  and  breadth  of  phrase  ob- 
taining in  clubs  is  discarded  at  a  private 
dinner,  at  least  when  ladies  are  present. 
The  price  which  ladies  must  pay  to  see  us  as 
we  are  is  to  marry  us.  Perhaps  even  then 
we  hide  from  them  what  is  most  character- 
istic. But,  on  the  other  hand,  do  we  not 
hide  what  is  best  in  us  from  one  another  ? 
And  is  not  the  highest  self  the  true  man  ? 
It  depends  on  the  man  ;  probably  alternation 
is  wholesome. 

The  gentleman  at  whom  we  have  already 
glanced  attended  the  dinner  the  next  even- 
ing, in  conventional  uniform  ;  and  in  addi- 
tion there  were  Blackmore  Risdon,  the  edi- 
tor of  the  Constitution  newspaper,  and 
Devereux  Scaramanga,  the  Wagnerian. 
These,  with  Pynchepole  and  Murgatroyd, 
brought  the  number  of  males  to  ten.  To 
balance  the  black  shoulders  there  were  nine 
pairs  of  white  ones.  The  table  was  round. 


1 8  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

Mrs.  Whiterduce  sat  opposite  her  lord.  At 
his  right  was  Mrs.  Dorothy  Tiptoft,  that 
wonderful  old  lady,  whose  humor  and  vivac- 
ity had  been  enriched  rather  than  tamed  by 
seventy  years  of  social  experience ;  who 
looked  like  a  cross  between  an  English 
duchess  and  a  fairy  godmother  ;  who  had 
known  everybody  knowable  of  the  last  two 
or  three  generations,  and  who  was  an  inex- 
haustible mine  of  racy  anecdote  and  good- 
humored  but  remorseless  satire.  At  Mr. 
Whiterduce' s  left  hand  rose  the  imposing 
figure  of  Mrs.  Sharingbourne,  mother  of  the 
Isabella  whose  lofty  destiny  has  already  been 
disclosed  to  the  reader.  Mrs.  Sharingbourne 
was  like  a  Rembrandt  portrait — massive, 
richly  tinted,  aristocratic  of  feature,  with  an 
imperturbable  but  graciously  dignified  de- 
meanor. Mrs.  Whiterduce  was  supported, 
right  and  left,  by  Blackmore  Risdon  and  by 
General  Stepyngstone,  respectively ;  the  for- 
mer a  Websterian  personage,  broad-shoul- 
dered, imposing,  but  markedly  gallant  tow- 
ard women,  and  with  a  quizzical  tilt  of 
eyebrow  and  a  sagacious  twitch  of  the  cor- 
ners of  his  straight-lipped  mouth,  which 
showed  that  he  knew  how  to  appeal  to  the 
male  sense  of  humor. 


THEY  ASSEMBLE  19 

The  Rev.  Christopher  Plukerose  Agabag 
bloomed  like  a  rose  between  Mrs.  Jellicoe 
and  Miss  Aurelia  Estengrewe.  Mrs.  Jellicoe 
was  a  plump,  elderly  innocent,  with  puffy 
pink  cheeks  and  an  air  of  attaching  herself 
to  her  interlocutor  —  of  hanging  trustfully 
about  that  favored  person's  neck.  Aurelia 
was  the  eldest  of  three  sisters,  all  present  to- 
night, nieces  of  Mrs.  Jellicoe  ;  each  maiden 
had  her  line  ;  and  Aurelia,  a  slender,  rather 
sombre  brunette,  was  addicted  to  esoteric  re- 
ligion ;  so  that  it  was  esoteric,  the  sect 
was  of  minor  importance.  Hannah,  next  in 
age,  was  separated  from  Aurelia  by  Verinder 
Vyse  ;  her  tastes  were  housewifely  and  do- 
mestic, and  she  had  the  flaxen  hair  and  firm, 
ruddy  flesh  of  a  Gretchen.  The  youngest, 
Sabina,  cultivated  music ;  she  was  petite 
and  pretty,  with  brown,  wavy  hair  and  a 
fun-loving  nose.  She  chirped  under  the 
long,  lean  wing  of  General  Stepyngstone. 
Devereux  Scaramanga  was  on  her  other 
hand  ;  he  had  independence  enough  to  let 
his  black  locks  flow  down  nearly  to  his 
shoulders. 

It  is  an  error  to  suppose  that  all  men 
who  do  this  are  fools  ;  there  have  been  in- 
stances much  to  the  contrary.  Sacramanga 


20  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

also  wore  an  aspect  of  sallow  and  deep-eyed 
romanticism. 

Roger  Hemynge  and  Aubert  Frewin  were 
attendant  upon  Mrs.  Stepyngstone,  a  lean, 
much  bejewelled  lady,  dowered  with  the 
happy  faculty  of  cordial  agreement  with 
everybody  and  everything.  Finally,  Isa- 
bella Sharingbourne  sat  between  Stuke- 
ly  Poyntell  and  her  betrothed,  Murga- 
troyd. 

A  handsome  girl  was  Isabella,  erect  and 
correct,  in  fine  physical  condition,  with 
clear,  deliberate  eyes,  and  straight,  rather 
severe  features.  Both  her  mind  and  her 
body  had  been  systematically  cultivated  up 
to  their  highest  point  of  efficiency.  She 
was  but  twenty  years  old,  but  she  was  ripe 
for  marriage,  for  society,  for  a  profession, 
for  anything.  No  illusions  imperilled  her, 
nor  sentiment  enfeebled.  "  That  is  a  girl," 
General  Stepyngstone  had  once  said,  ' '  who 
never  will  be  guilty  of  a  social  mistake, ' '  to 
which  Verinder  Vyse  had  rejoined  that  apart 
from  social  mistakes  no  woman  could  attract 
or  interest,  instancing  Helen  of  Troy,  Sap- 
pho, Semiramis,  Cleopatra,  Heloise,  Marie 
Antoinette,  George  Sand,  and  others  of  even 
later  date.  But  he  added  that  Miss  Sharing- 


THEY  ASSEMBLE  21 

bourne  was  still  young,  and  that  he  was  re- 
solved to  be  hopeful  of  her. 

Such  were  the  component  parts  of  the  hu- 
man instrument  which  Mr.  Whiterduce  had 
put  together  from  which  he  must  elicit  an 
evening's  harmony.  Yet  a  word  must  be 
said  about  the  Whiterduce  trinity  them- 
selves. 

The  lady  must  have  been  upward  of  forty 
years  of  age,  but  except  for  her  lack  of 
movement  and  variety  would  still  have  been 
beautiful.  Her  repose  was  not  that  of  a 
Greek  statue,  with  which  her  form  and 
features  might  have  been  compared,  for  the 
Greek  is  latent  activity  so  poised  as  to  be 
unchanging,  though  forever  potent  of  change. 
Mrs.  Whiterduce's  immobility  had  the  char- 
acter of  spiritual  paralysis.  She  was  desti- 
tute of  initiative;  she  stirred  only  in  re- 
sponse to  external  stimulus.  Those  who 
remembered  her  as  a  high-spirited,  warm- 
blooded girl  were  at  a  loss  to  account  for 
the  change.  Her  soul  seemed  held  in  bond- 
age by  an  impregnable  force,  as  bodies  are 
by  ice  or  amber. 

Of  course,  we  are  not  to  imagine  Mrs. 
Whiterduce  as  literally  incapable  of  motion  ; 
but  it  is  difficult  to  explain  how  the  effect  of 


22  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

abnormal  stillness  was  produced.  Was  it 
the  intent,  yet  unseeing  look  in  her  eyes?  or 
the  hush  in  her  voice,  as  of  one  who  speaks 
in  the  presence  of  an  amazing  spectacle,  or 
under  the  influence  of  a  ghastly  foreboding? 
After  conversing  with  her  a  few  minutes,  one 
instinctively  lowered  the  tone  of  one's  voice, 
as  with  a  vague  expectation  of  some  strange 
event  about  to  happen.  Nothing  ever  did 
happen,  and  Mrs.  Whiterduce  always  per- 
formed with  perfect  good  breeding  every 
requisite  social  function.  She  was  probably 
the  victim  of  some  obscure  affection  of  the 
nerves  ;  her  older  acquaintances  traced  back 
her  condition  to  the  epoch  of  Murgatroyd's 
appearance.  Yet  Mrs.  Whiterduce  was  not 
what  is  colloquially  termed  nervous,  and  her 
general  health  was  equable.  Aubert  Frewin, 
who  was  occasionally  visited  by  insights,  ex- 
pressed the  impression  she  had  on  him  by 
saying,  "Other  people's  bodies  die;  it's 
the  soul  is  dead  in  her." 

As  for  Pynchepole,  it  was  those  who  had 
longest  known  him  who  were  most  ready  to 
admit  that  they  knew  him  not.  Was  there, 
then,  anything  dark  or  sinister  in  his  nat- 
ure ?  Chemistry  assures  us  that  the  dia- 
mond is  derived  from  the  blackest  of  sub- 


THEY  ASSEMBLE  23 

stances,  so  thoroughly  digested  as  to  show 
only  purity  and  clear  reflections.  Whiter  - 
duce  seemed  transparent,  yet  he  could  not 
be  seen  through.  An  investigator  might 
fancy  he  had  penetrated  him,  only  to  find 
that  he  was  in  an  interior  corridor,  which 
left  him  as  much  outside  the  real  reserves  as 
ever.  After  your  shrewdest  inquisition, 
there  still  stood  the  quiet,  friendly  gentle- 
man, with  clear  eyes  and  invisible  manners, 
within  reach  of  your  arm,  yet  remote  as  the 
peak  of  Everest.  His  voice  was  low,  clear 
and  nicely  modulated,  yet  his  phrases  had 
a  careless  spontaneity — a  freedom  from  ultra 
precision  —  which  in  another  might  have 
been  criticised.  Physically  he  was  neither 
tall  nor  short,  stout  nor  slender  ;  his  close 
side-whiskers  and  clean-shaven  mouth  and 
chin  imparted  an  English  character  to  his 
delicately  tinted  countenance. 

After  all,  the  practical  puzzle  about  him 
was  that  his  undoubtedly  great  forces  should 
be  so  divorced  from  great  action.  He  had 
inevitably  gravitated  to  the  social,  political, 
and  industrial  centre  of  the  community,  and 
the  chosen  men  of  mark  and  mind  consulted 
with  and  deferred  to  him  ;  the  reins  of  in- 
fluence were  gathered  ready  to  his  hand,  yet 


24  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

his  fingers  never  closed  upon  them.  How 
can  a  man  who  has  all  his  life  been  in  the 
illuminated  midst  of  civilization,  visible  and 
accessible  by  all,  remain  a  mystery?  Au- 
relia  Estengrewe  suggested  that  he  had  re- 
ceived the  freedom  of  the  Fourth  Dimen- 
sion. He  was  not  a  club  man  nor  a  diner 
out,  nor  a  man  of  business,  politician,  trav- 
eller, author,  inventor.  His  tastes  were  do- 
mestic and  static.  He  sat  on  Sundays  un- 
der Agabag.  There  are  plenty  of  hustlers, 
shouters,  and  of  brainless  drones  in  the 
world  ;  does  he  not  also  serve  who  is  con- 
tent to  remain  a  model  of  serene  and  intelli- 
gent passivity  ? 

Perhaps  Murgatroyd  was  his  father's  least 
comprehensible  manifestation.  He  appeared 
commonplace.  The  animal  was  prominent 
in  him.  It  glowed  in  his  cheeks,  thickened 
his  lips,  lowered  his  forehead.  His  eye- 
brows were  thick  and  all  but  met  across  the 
root  of  his  blunt  nose  ;  his  dark-brown  hair 
was  over  -  abundant  and  rebellious  to  the 
comb.  He  was  as  redolent  of  good  humor 
as  a  gambolling  retriever ;  grins  and  laugh- 
ter bubbled  from  him  at  the  slightest  provo- 
cation. But  he  was  afflicted  with  bashful- 
ness,  which  was  forever  reddening  his  face 


THEY  ASSEMBLE  25 

and  ears,  and  blundering  into  his  hands  and 
feet.  He  was  obviously  well  disposed,  lik- 
ing to  be  liked  and  to  satisfy  expectation, 
but  the  primitive  impulse  within  was  so 
alien  to  the  sage  outward  admonition  that  it 
obeyed  with  difficulty,  and  the  constant 
sense  of  failure  rushed  in,  dismally  tumultu- 
ous. Murgatroyd  had  moments  of  despair, 
contrasting  what  he  was  with  what  he  ought 
to  be.  These  alternated  with  seasons  of  ob- 
livious, illicit  joy — festivals  of  physical  health 
and  strength  and  delighted  marriage  of  de- 
sire with  gratification.  Few  youths  had 
more  than  he  enjoyed  college  life — so  long 
as  it  was  a  matter  of  playing  ball,  rowing, 
eating,  and  genial  carousing — but  his  inabil- 
ity to  keep  to  strict  training  spoilt  his  value 
in  college  athletics,  and  as  for  study,  neither 
under  the  academic  shades  nor  during  en- 
forced retirement  to  rural  solitudes  tempered 
by  learned  parsons,  could  he  bring  his  mind 
to  it.  The  consequence  was  the  indefinite 
postponement  of  his  diploma. 

On  his  way  home  Murgatroyd  contem- 
plated suicide,  but  he  decided  to  eat  once 
more  first,  and  presently  he  found  himself 
entering  the  paternal  mansion. 

Mr.    Whiterduce  happened   to   intercept 


26  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

him  on  the  way  to  the  larder,  where  he 
knew  that  his  friend,  Sallie  Wintle,  the 
housemaid,  would  give  him  all  the  cold  pie 
and  cheese  he  wanted. 

Mr.  Whiterduce  pleasantly  beckoned  him 
into  the  library,  where  the  unhappy  youth 
confronted  him,  his  interior  parts  distilling 
to  a  jelly,  while  his  skin  was  as  though 
bathed  in  nettles.  He  heard  the  sound  of 
that  low,  serene  voice,  which  always  slid 
through  him  like  Saladin's  cimeter,  but  for 
a  while  had  no  idea  what  it  was  saying.  At 
length  these  surprising  words  reached  his 
consciousness : 

"Don't  let  it  bother  you,  my  boy.  A 
college  diploma  amounts  to  nothing.  Let 
the  past  go.  You  are  a  man  now,  and  what 
I  want  you  to  do  is  to  marry.  You  will  like 
Isabella  Sharingbourne,  I  think.  You  shall 
have  opportunities  of  arranging  it  between 
yourselves.  Have  you  had  your  lunch  ? 
Ring  the  bell  and  tell  Foster  to  bring  what- 
ever  you  want.  You  are  to  give  what  orders 
you  like  in  this  house  from  this  time  on. ' ' 

Semi -articulate  noises  strove  to  emerge 
from  Murgatroyd's  throat ;  Mr.  Whiterduce 
smiled  again,  and  left  him  to  his  own  de- 
vices. 


THEY  ASSEMBLE  27 

Some  five  months  were  still  to  elapse  be- 
fore Murgatroid  would  be  twenty-one.  Dur- 
ing this  interval  ample  opportunities  were 
afforded  to  come  to  the  point  with  Miss 
Sharingbourne.  The  youth  used  to  go  and 
sit  in  her  presence,  picking  at  the  callosities 
on  the  palms  of  his  hands  while  she  talked, 
if  she  were  so  disposed,  or  sewed  or  read,  as 
it  happened.  At  first  Murgatroyd  was  much 
distressed  because  he  thought  that  some 
manifestation  would  be  expected  of  him; 
but  Isabella  never  betrayed  any  solicitude 
on  the  subject  of  his  sentiments.  She 
"  minded  "  him  no  more  than  she  did  her 
collie  dog ;  she  fed  him  even  oftener,  and 
never  caressed  him.  Murgatroyd  was  inar- 
ticulately grateful  for  this  treatment,  and  be- 
gan to  think  that  if  marriage  involved  no 
more  trouble  than  courting,  perhaps  he 
might  make  a  husband  after  all.  At  all 
events  he  was  resolved  to  do  his  best,  to 
make  up  for  losing  that  diploma.  He  con- 
sidered that  his  father  had  shown  him  enor- 
mous generosity.  He  did  not  take  to  Isa- 
bella nearly  so  much  as  to  Sallie  Wintle ; 
but  never  mind !  One  day,  after  an  abun- 
dant lunch,  while  Isabella  was  pouring  out 
for  him  an  extra  cup  of  coffee,  he  said  : 


28  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  I  say,  Isabella,  how  do  you  do  when 
you  get  married  ?  What  does  one  have  to 
do?" 

Isabella  looked  up,  with  a  piece  of  sugar 
between  the  sugar  tongs.  "  Two  lumps, 
don't  you?  Oh!  When  Mr.  Agabag  says 
'  Will  you  ?  '  you  say,  '  I  will,'  and  put  the 
ring  on  her  finger." 

"Is  that  all?"  exclaimed  Murgatroyd, 
receiving  the  cup.  "Why,  that's  easy.  I 
can  do  that.  Any  fellow  could." 

"  Yes,  you  can,  if  you  care  to." 

"  Well,  let's  do  it.  I  mean  I  will  if  you 
will." 

"Very  well,"  said  Isabella,  after  a  little 
silence.  She  looked  aside,  out  of  the  win- 
dow, at  the  gray  November  sky.  She  looked 
back  at  her  lover,  swallowing  his  coffee. 
She  pushed  the  silver  basket  of  cake  toward 
him  and  rose. 

' '  Have  you  got  everything  you  want  ?  ' ' 
she  asked  him. 

"  Me?     Oh,  yes ;  thank  you  !  " 

"  I  have  an  engagement.  Will  you  ex- 
cuse me  ?  "  She  went  out,  and  it  was  thus 
that  Murgatroyd  Whiterduce  won  his  bride. 

Dinner  is  served.  The  damask  tablecloth 
is  lustrous  in  the  soft  light.  The  flowers  are 


THEY  ASSEMBLE  29 

massed  in  the  centre  of  the  round  table, 
glowing  with  color  and  breathing  perfume. 
There  is  a  sparkle  of  silver,  crystal  and  porce- 
lain. The  subdued  cheerfulness  of  conver- 
sation begins  to  murmur  and  undulate. 
Deft  servants  exchange  noiseless  signals  and 
step  hither  and  thither.  Dinner  has  begun. 
There  is  not  a  fool  present,  or  not  more  than 
one. 


CHAPTER  III 


The  advantage  of  a  round  table  is  that  the 
head  of  it  is  always  where  the  best  thing  is 
being  said.  Anyone  who  can  prove  a  right 
to  it  may  occupy  the  position,  without  the 
pain  of  changing  chairs.  The  host  is  on  the 
same  footing  with  his  guests. 

"  Which  do  you  prefer,  Little  Necks  or 
Blue  Points?"  inquired  Hannah  Esten- 
grewe,  as  she  squeezed  a  segment  of  lemon 
over  one  of  the  first-named  bivalves. 

"Whichever  I'm  most  accustomed  to," 
was  Verinder  Vyse's  reply. 

"  Now,  I  should  have  thought  you  would 
like  novelty." 

"Not  on  the  lower,  at  the  expense  of 
the  higher  plane.  Novelty  in  dinners  may 
be  a  gastronomic  virtue,  but  it  is  a  moral 
error. ' ' 

"Do  explain,  Mr.  Vyse.  Can  Little 
Necks  be  immoral?"  said  Mrs.  Sharing- 


DINNER  31 

bourne,  smiling  over -graciously  from  Han- 
nah's right. 

"Mrs.  Sharingbourne,  eating  is  in  the 
last  analysis  an  animal  necessity.  The  de- 
gree in  which  we  disguise  that  fact  is  the 
mark  of  our  advance  toward  civilization. 
The  most  civilized  dinner  is  that  at  which 
you  know  not  what  you  eat — thereby  liberat- 
ing your  intellect  for  conversation." 

"  Ah,  that  accounts  for  it,  then,"  said  the 
old  lady,  with  the  most  innocent  air  in  the 
world.  "  It  is  the  dinner's  not  being  civil- 
ized. I  always  thought  it  was  something 
else!  " 

"  You  mustn't  mind  him,  ma'am,"  chuck- 
led old  Roger  Hemynge.  "  He's  trying 
sentences  out  of  his  next  novel  on  us. ' ' 

Mr.  Whiterduce  gave  the  discomfited  nov- 
elist a  friendly  nod.  "  It's  the  right  social 
principle — the  spirit  against  the  flesh,"  he 
said.  "  The  ox  and  the  ass  are  always  tram- 
pling us  if  we  give  'em  a  chance — eh,  Aga- 
bag?" 

"  And  the  swine  turn  again  and  rend  us," 
assented  the  clergyman,  unctuously. 

Mrs.  Tiptoft  sipped  her  hock  and  glanced 
across  at  the  Judge.  "You  and  I  were 
brought  up  in  a  farm-yard,  Judge,"  she  re- 


32  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

marked,  "  and  we  cherish  the  memory  of 
our  first  loves  !  " 

"  Ay,  ay,  Mrs.  Tiptoft.  I  may  say  I 
never  saw  to  the  bottom  of  my  own  nature 
until  I  read  that  passage  about  the  pigs  run- 
ning down  the  steep  place.  If  we  can't  be 
men  and  women,  let's  be  swine.  It's  the 
first  alternative." 

"What  a  pearl  hath  our  little  clam  pro- 
duced !  ' '  said  Vyse  to  Hannah. 

"A  black  pearl,  then,"  said  Aubert  Fre- 
win.  "  Imagination  is  divine  ;  it  finds  the 
human  being  in  the  animal — not  the  other 
way — and  society  out  of  solitude. ' ' 

"Anachronism  before  soup,"  muttered 
the  Judge,  sotto  voce,  to  Mrs.  Tiptoft; 
"  should  have  kept  it  for  the  coffee." 

But  Aurelia  Estengrewe  had  heard  and 
kindled. 

"  Mr.  Frewin  does  say  such  soulful  things 
in  his  strange  way,"  she  confided  to  Mr.  Aga- 
bag.  "Is  it  not  true  that  imagination  in- 
volves religion  ?  It  divines  the  unseen  and 
eternal !  " 

At  the  same  moment  Mrs.  Jellicoe,  on  his 
other  side,  asked  his  opinion  on  another  sub- 
ject. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  anxiously  studying 


DINNER  33 

the  empty  shells  on  her  plate  through  her 
eye-glasses,  "  do  clams  really  have  pearls  ?  I 
never  found  one,  and  I've  eaten  so  many !  " 

The  man  of  God  disposed  first  of  the  ma- 
terial doubt. 

"  No  pearls  in  Little  Necks,"  he  said, 
sympathetically.  Then  he  turned  to  Aurelia. 
"The  Church,  by  anticipating  the  most 
transcendent  surmises  of  imagination,  re- 
lieves us  of  the  responsibility  of  accepting 
imagination  as  our  guide.  Nor  can  imagina- 
tion be  deemed  a  trustworthy  index  of  the 
moral. ' ' 

"N-no;  still,  may  not  imagination  be  a 
sort  of  personal  revelation — to  the  pure  in 
heart,  you  know  ? ' ' 

"Beyond  a  certain  point,"  struck  in 
Scaramanga,  tossing  back  his  hair  with  a  no- 
ble movement,  "  morality  is  pusillanimous. 
It  is  a  temporary  local  substitute  for  spiritual 
perception.  The  child  is  carried  whither  his 
nurse  thinks  best ;  the  man  walks  on  his  own 
feet  where  he  will.  Convention  leads  us 
until  we  are  of  a  stature  to  think  indepen- 
dently. After  that,  my  wrong  may  be  your 
right — no  general  rule  binds. "  As  he  spoke 
his  eyes  glanced  across  the  table  and  rested 
an  instant  on  Isabella  Sharingbourne,  seated 
3 


34  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

nearly  opposite,  beside  Murgatroyd.  The 
color  in  her  smooth,  firm  cheeks  deepened 
slightly,  but  Scaramanga  was  the  first  to  look 
away. 

"  A  communist  of  my  acquaintance,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Whiterduce  pleasantly,  "  was 
annoyed  by  some  unauthorized  intruder, 
who  argued  that,  since  communism  held  all 
things  in  common,  he  might  sit  by  the  com- 
munist's fire.  '  I  admit  your  right  to  sit 
there,'  said  my  friend,  '  as  long  as  you  don't 
interfere  with  my  right  to  sit  there  alone.'  " 

Here  the  stately  shoulders  of  Blackmore 
Risdon  shook  in  a  Jovian  chuckle. 

"  That's  the  point,  my  boy,"  he  rumbled 
huskily,  addressing,  not  Whiterduce,  of 
course,  but  Scaramanga;  "sauce  for  the 
goose,  sauce  for  the  gander.  You  have  to 
keep  your  eyes  on  your  example  quite  as 
much  as  on  your  rights.  The  non-conform- 
ist who  isn't  an  outlaw  must  be  a  hypocrite. 
The  majority  rules  !  " 

"Is  it  from  the  editor  of  the  Constitution 
that  I  hear  that  venerable  fallacy  ?  "  de- 
manded General  Stepyngstone,  fresh  from  a 
playful  skirmish  with  the  sprightly  Sabina, 
youngest  and  fairest  of  the  Estengrewes. 
"Apart  from  the  editorial  page,  my  dear 


DINNER  35 

Risdon,  on  how  many  fingers  do  you  count 
the  real  majority  in  this  republic  ?  " 

Hereupon  the  two  fell  into  a  semi -serious 
political  talk,  and  Isabella,  quiescent  since 
Scaramanga's  speech,  now  resumed  her  duty 
of  harassing  Murgatroyd.  Harassing  is,  of 
course,  not  the  proper  word,  only  Murga- 
troyd was,  for  certain  reasons,  obviously 
uneasy. 

In  the  first  place,  he  was  never  comfortable 
in  evening  dress  ;  his  tails  embarrassed  him, 
and  he  feared  to  crease  his  shirt-front  or  mar 
its  purity  with  a  miscarriage  of  soup  or  salad- 
dressing.  To-night  he  was  additionally  de- 
pressed by  the  consciousness  that  the  din- 
ner was  given  in  his  honor  (dismal  irony  !)  ; 
and  that  he  was  fain  to  pose  as  the  joyous 
lover,  triumphant  from  the  conquest  of  the 
shy  virgin  beside  him.  Had  he  been  merely 
ignorant  of  the  duties  and  conduct  incum- 
bent on  him  he  might  have  better  acquitted 
himself;  but  the  ideal  demeanor  was  vaguely 
present  to  his  mind,  while  he  felt  his  per- 
sonal resources  impotent  to  compass  it.  The 
suffering  to  the  sow's  ear  involved  in  the  at- 
tempt to  make  a  purse  of  it  is  not  sufficiently 
considered.  It  was  inconceivable  that  a 
Whiterduce  should  disgrace  his  ancestry ; 


36  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

yet  Murgatroyd  was  never  free  from  dread  of 
this  mortal  sin.  To  be  born  awkward  and 
stupid  is  bad  enough,  but  that  the  awkward- 
ness and  stupidity  should  spring  from  a  root 
of  demigods  was  more  than  humiliating.  In 
his  earlier  years  he  had  hoped  that  "  growing 
up ' '  would  cure  everything ;  but  now  here 
he  was,  six  feet  high,  broad-shouldered  and 
stalwart,  hair  on  his  upper  lip,  and  yet  more 
wrong  than  ever  !  What  had  his  father  said 
about  donkeys  trampling  on  us  ?  Murga- 
troyd felt  like  a  donkey  trampling  on  him- 
self. He  groaned  in  the  act  of  driving  his 
fork  through  an  entree  on  his  plate. 

All  the  while  Isabella  was  talking  to  him 
with  imperturbable  charm. 

"Of  course,  though,  you  know,  music  is 
quite  by  itself.  We  can  account  for  other 
things,  but  not  for  that.  Music  reveals  what 
language  hides  ;  it's  a  vision  of  some  beau- 
tiful country  from  which  we  are  exiles ;  it 
makes  us  long  to  return,  but  we  can  never 
get  further  than  the  vision.  When  I  was  a 
child  I  used  to  wonder  if  fairy  stories  were 
true ;  but  music  showed  me  they  were  not 
half  the  truth.  Do  you  prefer  Wagner?  " 

Murgatroyd  made  an  effort. 

"  I  guess  I  never  read  it.    I  like  that  about 


DINNER  37 

the  ogre  in  Jack  the  Giant-Killer. ' '  He  de- 
livered this  in  his  best  manner. 

Once  more  Isabella's  eyes  and  Scaraman- 
ga's  met.  But  this  was  but  natural.  Scar- 
amanga  was  a  musical  genius;  Isabella's 
technical  music  proficiency  had  been  gained 
through  his  influence.  He  was  not  a  pro- 
fessional, but  he  was  a  creator  and  a  con- 
noisseur, and  the  musical  temperament,  so 
often  brainless,  was  in  him  allied  with  an 
acute  and  audacious  intellect.  It  was  natu- 
ral that  he  and  Isabella  should  sympathize 
on  musical  subjects  better  than  she  and  her 
future  husband  could. 

The  conversation  was  now  general  round 
the  table. 

Old  Mrs.  Tiptoft  was  delighting  her  neigh- 
bors with  humorous  anecdotes  and  scandal, 
to  the  bass  accompaniment  of  Judge  Hem- 
ynge.  Mrs.  Stepyngstone  was  chanting  an 
odd  duet  with  Aubert  Frewin,  he  singing 
the  fantastical,  whimsical  air,  while  she  sup- 
plied the  admiring  but  more  or  less  unintel- 
ligent chorus.  Mrs.  Whiterduce  responded 
to  the  remarks  addressed  to  her  with  gentle 
monosyllables  and  accordant  smiles — if  that 
may  be  called  a  smile  in  which  the  eyes  play 
no  part.  She  seldom  looked  at  any  one ;  if 


38  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

she  did,  it  was  generally  at  Scaramanga. 
Verinder  Vyse  was  making  both  Hannah 
and  Aurelia  laugh,  though  the  latter  was 
trying  to  put  her  soul  into  a  serious  conver- 
sation with  Plukerose  Agabag.  The  clergy- 
man, between  excursions  of  magnetic  elo- 
quence, sipped  his  wine  complacently,  and 
sustained  with  apostolic  equanimity  the  in- 
vertebrate appeals  of  Mrs.  Jellicoe.  The 
sprightly  Sabina,  during  the  General's  tem- 
porary diversion  with  Blackmore  Risdon, 
turned  her  bright  eyes  toward  Scaramanga, 
who  answered  her  with  a  genial  sweetness. 
The  General  and  his  interlocutor  had  got  on 
the  topic  of  secret  societies. 

"  One  can  understand  them  in  Europe," 
remarked  the  former,  "when  plain  talk  is 
gagged  the  cipher  code  is  natural.  But 
what  is  the  pretext  here  ? ' ' 

"  Pretext !  "  boomed  the  helmsman  of  the 
Constitution.  "What  is  a  fish's  pretext  for 
swimming  ?  In  every  thousand  so  many 
men  will  be  predisposed  to  secret  organiza- 
tion. They  will  put  forward  what  pretext 
you  please — that  they're  not  allowed  to  wear 
petticoats  ;  that  there  are  but  seven  days  in 
a  week ;  anything  !  The  point  is,  they  want 
to  be  the  wheel  within  the  wheel — control 


DINNER  39 

the  whole  machinery.  It's  latent  in  all  of 
us;  didn't  we  have  secrets  and  play  mys- 
teries at  school  ? ' ' 

Agabag  lifted  his  head  out  of  a  warm  bath 
of  esotericism. 

"  Then  you  think  it's  only  a  sort  of  imag- 
inative game?  "  said  he,  "  that  they  are  sat- 
isfied with  oaths,  passwords,  and  initiations 
— plots  and  preambles;  but  stop  short  of 
action  ? — in  this  country,  I  mean  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  now  and  then  some  crank  takes  the 
mummery  seriously,  and  drops  a  bomb  some- 
where," returned  Risdon.  "But  they  will 
never  agree  upon  any  concerted  plan  of  ac- 
tion. ' ' 

"I  admit  I  disagree  with  you,"  said  the 
General.  "  Setting  aside  Freemasonry — 
which  I  believe  doesn't  claim  to  be  the  ad- 
vocate of  any  specific  social  or  political  re- 
form  ' ' 

"  Just  a  big  charity  organization — without 
much  charity  !  ' '  the  editor  put  in. 

' <  Well,  leaving  that  out,  what  have  you 
to  say  to  the  Carbonari,  the  Mafia,  the  Nihi- 
lists, the  Molly  Maguires,  the  Highbinders, 
the " 

"  I  say,  set  the  cry  against  the  wool,  and 
see  what  you've  got !  " 


40  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"And  yet  the  press " 

Risdon  chuckled  good-humoredly. 

"  Yes,  I  know  !  The  newspapers  make 
the  most  of  it — why  not  ?  That  serves  two 
uses :  First,  it  turns  an  honest  penny  for  us 
newspaper  men;  secondly,  it's  an  escape- 
pipe  for  the  conspirators.  What  they  crave 
is  notoriety ;  so  long  as  the  press  gives 
them  that  you  may  rest  secure  about  dyna- 
mite." 

"  What's  that  ?  All  a  secret  society  wants 
is  notoriety?  "  came  from  the  Judge. 

Risdon  joined  in  the  general  smile,  but 
stuck  to  his  paradox. 

Whiterduce  said:  "We  may  still  believe 
that  secret  societies  rule  the  world — a  single 
such  society,  maybe.  But  it  would  need  to 
be  really  secret.  Its  very  existence  must  be 
unsuspected.  Most  of  its  active  agents, 
even,  must  be  unaware  that  there  is  any 
such  thing.  Perhaps  full  knowledge  of  it 
would  be  confined  to  one  person  only. 
Given  a  man  of  adequate  ability,  and  he 
may  control  civilization,  while  appearing  to 
his  nearest  friends  a  mere  indolent  trifler. 
He  must  be  wise  enough  to  apply  his  impulse 
in  the  line  of  natural  forces  and  human  ten- 
dencies— never  against  them.  Each  of  his 


DINNER  41 

tools  would  imagine  himself  to  be  acting  in 
his  own  interest.  From  the  imaginative 
point  of  view  the  idea  has  always  struck  me 
as  attractive.  Won't  you  work  it  up  for  us, 
Vyse?" 

"I  see;  you  want  to  make  me  one  of 
the  ignorant  tools!  "  returned  the  novelist. 
"  Under  the  delusion  that  I  was  inditing 
original  fiction,  I  should  be  obeying  the  be- 
hests of  a  secret  tribunal !  ' ' 

"Well,  they  could  help  you  get  rid  of  an 
edition,"  said  Poyntell,  "and  might  even 
influence  me,  without  my  knowledge,  to 
give  you  a  favorable  review. ' ' 

"  There's  one  thing  no  secret  tribunal 
will  ever  have  the  power  to  do,  though,  and 
that  is  to  make  me  read  the  book,"  ob- 
served the  remorseless  Judge. 

"  The  great  fascination  of  a  secret  organi- 
zation should  be  that  it  should  be  everlast- 
ing, but  if  it  depended  on  one  man — as  Mr. 
Whiterduce  suggests  —  it  must  die  with 
him." 

This  was  Aubert  Frewin's  idea. 

"  The  world  is  never  without  one  first- 
rate  man,"  replied  Whiterduce.  "And 
first-rate  men  always  know  each  other.  Of 
course,  in  treating  the  subject  artistically," 


42  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

he  added,  smiling  at  Vyse,  ' '  the  inheritance 
should  go  from  father  to  son,  through  count- 
less generations." 

"  How  terribly  fascinating  !  "  murmured 
Aurelia,  with  a  shudder  in  her  voice.  "  Is 
there  such  a  family,  do  you  suppose  ?  Fancy 
knowing  such  a  man,  without  knowing,  you 
know ' ' 

The  Judge  cocked  an  eyebrow  at  her. 
"  Fancy  marrying  him,  my  dear  young 
lady  !  " 

' '  A  living  death !  ' '  said  someone,  in  a 
husky  whisper. 

Who  had  spoken?  They  all  looked  at 
one  another.  Singularly  enough  (owing  to 
the  general  preoccupation  wrought  by  the 
discussion)  no  one  could  tell.  There  was  a 
moment's  awkward  pause. 

"Shouldn't  you  say,  Mrs.  Whiterduce," 
asked  Scaramanga  then,  turning  his  eyes 
on  that  lady's  expressionless  countenance, 
"  that  it's  rather  straining  the  theory  of  he- 
redity to  suppose  an  uninterrupted  lineage  of 
Julius  Caesars  ? ' ' 

"  The  fable  of  the  phoenix  warrants  it," 
remarked  Poyntell. 

"  He'd  be  able  to  select  his  wife  scientifi- 
cally, you  know,"  said  the  General,  "and 


DINNER  43 

to  train  his  successor  from  infancy.  The  re- 
sources of  modern  physiology  and  psychol- 
ogy can  now  unite  in  wedlock  such  individ- 
uals that — er " 

' '  In  wedlock  ? ' '  queried  the  Judge.  ' '  The 
more  advanced  students  are  saying  that  the 
very  security  and  serenity  of  the  married  re- 
lation militate  against  the  engendering  of 
genius." 

"  Hemynge,  I'm  ashamed  of  you  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Tiptoft.  "You've  drunk  too  much 
wine.  Anyone  would  know  you  were  a 
bachelor  !  ' ' 

"  What  else  could  any  man  be  whose 
youthful  hopes  you  had  blighted  ?  ' '  retorted 
the  irrepressible  jurist. 

"  After  all,  what  surer  test  of  human 
greatness  could  be  required  than  the  ability 
to  make  the  proverbial  silk  purse  ? ' '  asked 
Poyntell. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  if  there's  any  sewing  to 
be  done  it's  better  to  let  a  woman  do  it ; 
don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Agabag?"  said 
Mrs.  Jellicoe,  plaintively. 

"A  propos  de  bottes,"  exclaimed  Black- 
more  Risdon,  swaying  his  big  shoulders, 
"  this  is  a  coming-of-age  party,  I  under- 
stand ;  are  we  not  to  hear  any  remarks  suit- 


44  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

ed  to  the  occasion  ?  How  about  proposing 
the  toast  of  the  evening,  eh  ?  " 

"  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  get  up  and  go 
ahead,"  said  Hemynge. 

"No,  no  !  You  would  be  saying  to-mor- 
Jow  that  I  had  my  speech  set  up  at  the  office 
before  I  came  down  here,"  rejoined  the 
sagacious  editor.  "  Come,  Whiterduce  !  " 

Mr.  Whiterduce  looked  amused. 

"  I  nominate  General  Stepyngstone,"  said 
he.  "  If  anyone  can  do  credit  to  the  emer- 
gency he  can." 

"  General  Stepyngstone  !"  was  murmured 
approvingly  round  the  table.  Murgatroyd, 
meanwhile,  totally  unconscious  of  what  lay 
before  him,  went  on  cracking  English  wal- 
nuts with  his  strong  teeth,  and  feeling  an 
interior  peace. 

The  gallant  officer  arose.  He  touched 
his  gray  mustache  with  his  napkin,  straight- 
ened his  shoulders,  lifted  his  pointed  chin, 
and  bestowed  a  genial,  comprehensive  glance 
upon  the  company.  He  cleared  his  throat. 
In  the  moment  of  silence  ensuing  a  nut 
cracked  portentously  between  Murgatroyd's 
jaws. 

"  Pshaw  !  It's  rotten,"  muttered  that  pre- 
occupied young  gentleman,  reproachfully. 


DINNER  45 

Eloquence  is  a  sensitive  thing,  and  the 
General  felt  that  his  opening  was  spoiled. 
And  since  every  rose  postulates  a  bud,  he 
was  embarrassed  also  as  to  the  body  of  his 
address.  The  peroration,  too — how  was  that 
to  come  off  without  the  due  preliminaries? 
Thus  it  happened  that  one  of  the  most  prac- 
tised after-dinner  orators  of  the  day  was  ac- 
tually rattled  by  so  trifling  an  incident  as  a 
mistake  in  a  walnut.  The  General  retreated, 
covering  his  retreat,  however,  with  the  skill 
of  a  veteran. 

"  Er — brevity,  we  know,  my  friends,  is 
the  soul  of  wit.  But  it  can  be  something 
more — it  can  be  the — er — dictate  of  genuine 
feeling.  My  knowledge — er — my  friendship 
with  our  host  and  hostess  goes  back  many 
years.  I  have  seen  our  young  friend  Mur- 
gatroyd,  in  whose  honor  we  are  met  to-night 
— (gentle  applause) — I  have  seen  him  grow 
from  a  boy  to  a  man.  He  is  now  putting 
away  boyish  things  (here  Murgatroyd,  with 
the  dawn  of  consternation  in  his  face,  shoved 
away  his  plate  of  nuts)  and  I  contemplate, 
with  sympathetic  emotion,  his  entrance  upon 
the  stern  realities  of  life.  He  looks  forward, 
with  the  bright,  unclouded  anticipations  of 
youth  (Murgatroyd  cast  a  desperate  glance 


46  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

round  the  table,  his  face  ghastly  pale,  and 
shoved  back  his  chair,  thereby  producing  a 
harsh,  scraping  noise,  which  in  a  moment 
turned  him  crimson),  and  let  us,  in  this 
genial  hour,  rather  share  his  confidence  than 
apply  the  sad  wisdom  of  experience — in 
short,  my  friends,  it  is  my  pleasure  to  give 
you  the  health  and  prosperity  of  Murgatroyd 
Whiterduce.  May  he  live  to  be  an  honor 
to  his  ancestry,  as  he  has  ever  been  the  pride 
of  his  parents  and  the — er — favorite  of  all 
who  know  him  !  " 

Amid  cheers  and  feminine  hand -clappings 
all  the  guests  rose  to  their  feet,  with  rustle 
and  bustle,  and  drank  the  toast  standing,  and 
"Murgatroyd,  Murgatroyd!"  went  from 
lip  to  lip.  The  General  felt  that  his  re- 
marks had  not  been  just  the  thing,  but  he 
was  uncommonly  glad  they  were  over.  And 
he  shared  the  general  curiosity  as  to  the 
heir's  reply. 

Murgatroyd,  in  his  panic,  had  stood  up 
with  the  rest,  and  emptied  his  glass  without 
enough  sense  left  to  know  whether  he  were 
drinking  champagne  or  salad  oil.  Then  the 
recognition  that  he  had  drunk  his  own  health 
took  all  the  remaining  starch  out  of  him, 
and  he  came  down  on  his  chair  with  a  thump 


DINNER  47 

that  shook  the  room.  He  was  now  expected 
to  get  upon  his  legs  and  return  thanks  in  a 
few  well-chosen  but  heartfelt  words. 

"  Murgatroyd,  Murgatroyd  !  " 

"Speech,  speech  !  " 

His  dizzily  swimming  eyes,  to  which  the 
ring  of  faces  seemed  a  misty  whirlpool,  sud- 
denly felt  the  impact,  as  it  were,  of  a  steady, 
rather  severe  regard,  and  he  realized  that  he 
was  confronting  the  gaze  of  Isabella  Sharing- 
bourne. 

It  gave  him  a  sensation,  not  agreeable,  but 
in  the  nature  of  a  stimulus.  It  gave  him  to 
understand  that  her  credit  was  involved  with 
his  own.  Finally,  it  awakened  in  him,  if 
but  temporarily,  a  certain  perception,  in- 
evitable soon  or  late  to  all  of  us,  which  is 
one  of  the  forlorn  experiences  of  mortal  ex- 
istence. 

For  Murgatroyd,  up  to  this  moment  mis- 
led by  his  own  warm  and  trustful  heart,  had 
imagined  that  his  fellow-creatures  cared  for 
him.  However  open  he  might  be  to  criti. 
cism,  he  had  supposed  that  at  bottom  every- 
body meant  well  toward  him.  If  his  friends 
found  fault  with  him,  it  was  only  to  the  end 
of  making  him  better  and  happier. 

But  now,  when  he  felt,  as  never  in  his  life 


48  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

before,  need  of  the  sympathetic  support  and 
love  of  those  around  him — in  this  crisis  of 
direst  distress — he  saw  that  the  very  persons 
who  were  pretending  to  do  him  honor,  from 
whom  he  might  rightly  expect  the  gentlest 
consideration,  in  reality  despised  and  ridi- 
culed him,  and  cared  for  him  not  one  jot. 
In  the  midst  of  the  lights,  the  luxury,  the 
compliments,  the  cries  of  encouragement,  he 
saw  with  a  flash  of  relentless  insight  that  he 
stood  alone,  the  object  of  thinly  veiled  con- 
tempt and  aversion.  There  was  no  one  to 
whom  he  could  look  for  countenance  ;  to  the 
girl  who  was  to  be  his  wife,  the  most  inti- 
mate guest  of  his  heart  and  soul — to  Isabella 
—least  of  all. 

All  this,  welded  together  and  pointed  by 
that  glance  from  Isabella,  pierced  him  like  a 
sword.  The  pain  took  away  his  bashfulness. 
It  was  too  poignant  even  for  tears. 

He  stood  up,  slowly  and  heavily,  and 
faced  them  all. 

"  I  guess  I  oughtn't  to  be  here,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  no  use  to  you  except  to  laugh  at.  I 
don't  feel  as  if  I  belonged  here.  It  seems 
queer  I  should  have  been  born  the  way  I  am. 
I'm  not  like  any  of  you.  I've  tried  to  be, 
but  I  don't  think  I  really  want  to  be.  I 


DINNER  49 

know  you're  better  than  me,  but  still  I — 
well,  I  guess  you  don't  care  to  hear  this — 
I  guess  I'd  better —  Excuse  me,  please; 
good-night  !  " 

Such  was  Murgatroyd's  birthday  speech  to 
the  guests  who  had  come  to  celebrate  his 
majority.  There  was  not  the  faintest  trace 
of  animosity  in  his  tone,  or  even  of  griev- 
ance. It  was  simply  a  painfully  guileless 
blurting  out  of  what  he  believed  were  facts. 
It  was  unpardonable,  atrocious ;  but  it  is  safe 
to  say  that  Murgatroyd's  speech  produced  a 
stronger  effect  than  he  had  any  idea  of  or 
than  anyone  present  anticipated.  As  he 
spoke  the  last  words  he  pushed  back  his 
chair  and  went  awkwardly  toward  the  door. 
No  one  spoke  or  stirred  except  Mr.  Whiter  - 
duce,  who  got  up  and  opened  the  door  for 
the  young  man  and  laid  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder  as  he  went  out,  and  said  kindly, 
"  Good-night,  my  boy  !  " 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   HOBBY   HORSE 

In  a  narrow  back  street,  within  sound  of 
the  tramway-car  bells  on  one  of  the  chief 
thoroughfares  of  the  city,  yet  as  distant 
from  it  socially  and  ethically  as  if  it  were  in 
another  planet,  stood  a  musty,  dingy  beer 
saloon  known  as  the  Hobby  Horse. 

It  was  a  place  even  the  existence  of  which 
was  unknown  to  the  kind  of  people  we  have 
hitherto  been  associated  with.  And  yet  it 
was  by  no  means  such  an  evil-minded  and 
murderous  dive  as  might  be  found  in  less  un- 
promising localities.  You  could  get  good 
beer  there  and  meet  people  whose  conversa- 
tion had  points  of  interest.  The  host  kept 
order,  and  was  also  a  philosopher.  He  was 
a  cubical,  pale-eyed  German,  five  feet  nine 
inches  high,  weighing  250  pounds.  He 
was  calm,  courteous,  resolute,  and  ordinarily 
serious,  though  sometimes,  when  only  a  few 
well-known  customers  remained,  late  at 


THE  HOBBY  HORSE  51 

night,  he  would  come  from  behind  the  bar, 
sit  at  one  of  the  tables,  and  talk  with  sagac- 
ity and  humor. 

He  had  a  wife  nearly  as  big  as  himself, 
ugly,  shrewd,  and  good-humored,  who  occa- 
sionally helped  her  husband  attend  to  the 
guests.  The  latter  made  her  the  object  of 
sprightly  compliments  and  badinage,  which 
she  returned  full  measure,  like  her  schoppens 
of  beer ;  but  if  anyone  ventured  too  far  in 
gallantry,  she  gave  him  reason  to  regret  it 
promptly. 

The  landlord  was  called  Heinrich  and  his 
wife  Frau  Pilsen.  They  had  occupied  the 
house  a  long  time  and  did  a  good  business. 
Herr  Heinrich  used  to  say,  with  quiet  com- 
placency, that  the  police  had  made  no  com- 
plaints against  him  since  he  had  been  there  ; 
and  he  would  sometimes  add  that  he  would 
see  to  it  that  they  never  did.  Any  guest 
might  express  any  opinions  he  chose,  pro- 
vided his  language  was  neither  indecent  nor 
over-loud  ;  but  any  attempt  to  do  anything 
not  in  harmony  with  law  and  order  was 
strictly  (and  effectively)  forbidden. 

This  was  good  sense  and  good  business. 
Many  of  sturdy  Herr  Heinrich's  patrons  had 
sat  at  his  tables  almost  nightly  for  a  dozen 


52  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

years  or  more.  Frivolous  and  rowdy  people 
found  the  society  uncongenial ;  there  were 
men  there,  perhaps,  who  held  and  discussed 
theories  or  even  designs  of  an  extravagant 
or  outrageous  nature ;  but  they  paid  for 
their  beer  and  conducted  themselves  respect- 
ably while  they  were  within  the  realm  of 
Herr  Heinrich.  The  most  bloodthirsty 
anarchist,  the  most  relentless  nihilist  who 
ever  planned  to  decimate  society  for  the  sake 
of  abstract  human  happiness,  would  have 
plunged  through  the  door  of  the  Hobby 
Horse  head-foremost,  with  the  toe-mark  of 
Herr  Heinrich's  massive  boot  tingling  in  his 
rear,  had  he  presumed  to  disregard  the  un- 
written rules  of  that  establishment.  But  so 
long  as  he  was  orderly  in  his  demeanor,  Herr 
Heinrich  would  not  only  extend  hospitality 
and  welcome  to  him,  but  would,  if  oppor- 
tunity served,  sit  down  with  him  and  listen 
to  plans  and  suggestions  which  would  have 
turned  any  ordinary  citizen's  hair  white. 
But  the  big  beer-seller  would  only  nod  his 
head  and  smile,  and  say  in  his  sleepy  bass 
voice,  "  Gut — das  is  gut,  mein  lieber.  Do 
vat  you  laik  and  dake  der  gonsequences — 
dat  is  der  prieflege  of  all  man.  Der  worlt  is 
full  of  wrong  dings  ;  I  will  be  glad  myzelf 


THE  HOBBY  HORSE  53 

when  dey  are  removt.  But  vatefer  vill  be 
done,  es  muss  bier  getrunken  werden — nicht  ? 
Well,  I  shdays  here  and  I  sell  beer,  more 
als  dwelf  year  now.  When  you  sets  dose 
wrongs  righd,  you  gome  here  by  me,  and  we 
drink  ;  if  you  vail,  you  gome  and  we  drink 
just  da  zame — ja?  Na,  also — noch  eins? 
Ja,  wohl  !  " 

Men  like  this  will  survive  and  prosper 
when  the  bomb  of  social  regeneration  has 
swept  all  other  life  from  the  planet.  They 
are  mortised  down  to  the  hard  pan  of  crea- 
tion. The  last  relic  left  of  human  occupa- 
tion of  this  globe  will  be  a  beer -keg.  Per- 
haps it  will  form  the  nucleus  of  a  new  plan- 
etary system. 

About  midnight  of  the  1 3th  of  November 
two  men  were  sitting  with  Heinrich  at  a 
table  in  the  corner  of  the  small  back  room 
at  the  Hobby  Horse.  Thjs  room  was  be- 
hind the  bar.  To  get  into  it  you  must  be 
admitted  through  the  gate  in  the  bar  and 
then  pass  through  a  doorway  in  the  rear 
partition.  It  was  a  sombre,  ill-ventilated 
little  closet  of  a  room,  but  it  was  a  compli- 
ment to  be  invited  into  it,  and  it  was  seldom 
crowded.  Frau  Pilsen  sat  on  a  stool  within 
the  bar,  so  that  she  could  both  attend  to 


54  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

business  in  the  outer  saloon  and  yet  exchange 
a  congenial  look  and  word  with  the  deni- 
zens of  the  interior  shrine. 

The  two  favored  guests  on  this  occasion 
were  about  the  same  age,  but  widely  differ- 
ent in  other  respects. 

One  sat  erect,  with  a  straight  back  and  a 
full  chest ;  he  wore  a  dark  beard,  close 
cropped,  but  his  head  was  bald  except  at 
the  sides  and  back.  He  had  a  bold,  frank, 
keen  face,  with  force  and  meaning  in  every 
feature.  There  was  a  pair  of  gold-rimmed 
eye-glasses  on  his  rather  full,  penetrating 
dark  eyes.  There  was  a  various  play  of  ex- 
pression over  his  countenance  as  he  spoke  or 
listened  ;  his  laugh  was  soft  and  pleasant,  his 
smile  full  of  quick  and  subtle  comprehension. 
You  felt  in  him  a  nature  of  immense  strength, 
warmth,  and  fineness — a  capacious,  vigorous 
intellect,  and  an  ardent  heart.  Learning  to 
know  him  better,  you  would  find  him  capa- 
ble of  savage  satire,  fierce  independence,  vio- 
lent enmities.  He  was  a  tremendous  friend, 
a  terrible  foe ;  he  had  more  foes  than  friends. 
Both  in  love  and  hate  he  was  blind  and  un- 
calculating,  He  was  a  physician,  learned  in 
theory  and  almost  unrivalled  in  practice. 
He  believed  himself  to  be  an  atheist,  and 


THE  HOBBY  HORSE  55 

laughed  good-humoredly  at  all  efforts  to  con- 
vert him,  but  would  never  argue  the  point. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  was  a  devout  believer 
in  astrology,  and  was  always  ready  to  vindi- 
cate the  truth  of  its  principles  and  prognos- 
tications. He  was  a  descendant  of  New  Eng- 
land farmers,  but  had  studied  his  profession 
in  Germany  and  France,  and  had  seen  that 
singular  phenomenon,  the  world,  great  and 
little,  rich  and  poor,  outside  and  in.  With 
all  his  knowledge  and  experience  the  boy  in 
him,  in  this  his  forty-fifth  year,  was  rampant 
and  inextinguishable.  He  was  a  tireless  and 
fantastic  joker,  and  had  a  strange  love  of 
puns — the  worse  they  were  the  better  he  en- 
joyed them.  He  once  concocted  the  follow- 
ing abominable  quatrain,  and  delighted  to 
repeat  it,  as  if  it  were  really  an  exquisite 
stroke  of  humor : 

If  I  were  pun-i-shed 

For  every  pun  I  shed, 

I  shouldn't  have  a  puny  shed 

To  hide  my  punished  head  ! 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  a  character  of 
this  quality  was  hardly  adapted  to  be  the 
pet  of  conventional  society.  His  skill, 
amounting  to  genius,  made  him  sought  after 


56  A   FOOL  OF  NATURE 

in  dire  emergencies  by  the  "aristocracy" 
as  urgently  as  by  others  ;  but  he  did  not  get 
on  smoothly  with  them.  His  preposterous 
jokes,  his  headstrong  independence,  his  utter 
irreverence  toward  all  conventions,  and  his 
terrific  sarcasms  on  all  humbugs  made  him 
a  storm  centre  in  the  higher  social  latitudes  ; 
and  there  is  no  denying  that  he  generally 
had  a  chip  on  his  shoulder  when  he  went  in 
that  direction.  His  patrician  patrons  were 
in  a  quandary  whether  he  or  death  were  the 
more  formidable.  But  when  it  came  to  the 
pinch,  they  were  apt  to  resign  themselves  to 
the  former.  When  he  was  in  a  practicable 
mood  he  could  be  the  best  company  imag- 
inable ;  only  be  careful  not  to  awaken  the 
barbarous  prejudices  of  this  man  who  held 
himself  to  be  incapable  of  prejudice.  If  he 
loved  you,  indeed,  you  could  say  anything 
to  him,  and  he  would  only  laugh  with  con- 
tagious glee,  and  clap  you  affectionately  on 
the  back.  But  otherwise — beware !  He 
was  at  one  time  a  member  of  the  St.  Quentin 
Club,  and,  coming  in  on  a  certain  memor- 
able afternoon,  saw  Mr.  Pynchepole  Whiter- 
duce  sitting  there,  in  the  midst  of  a  reveren- 
tial group  of  the  bluest  blood  in  town. 
Now,  he  had  a  short  time  before  attended 


THE   HOBBY  HORSE  57 

Mrs.  Whiterduce  in  a  dangerous  and  obsti- 
nate illness,  and  had  brought  her  through  it 
in  the  teeth  of  all  the  prophecies  of  the 
faculty.  He  walked  up  to  Whiterduce,  and 
brought  down  a  heavy  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"Well,  old  cock!  "  exclaimed  he  in  a 
jovial,  ringing  voice,  "  when  are  you  going 
to  pay  me  that  bill  you  owe  me  ?  ' ' 

No  human  being  had  ever  before  thus 
accosted  a  Whiterduce.  Everyone  within 
hearing  turned  pale  or  red,  and  shuddered. 
Mr.  Whiterduce  retained  his  self-possession 
and  said  quietly,  "  How  much  do  I  owe 
you,  Dr.  Maydwell  ?  ' ' 

"Ten  thousand  dollars,  old  Stick-in-the 
Mud  !  "  replied  the  Doctor,  settling  his 
eye-glasses  on  his  nose,  and  chuckling  in  a 
peculiar  manner.  The  two  men  looked  at 
each  other  for  a  moment. 

Whiterduce  took  out  his  check-book,  and 
a  fountain  pen,  and  wrote  a  check  for  ten 
thousand  dollars.  He  held  it  out  to  Mayd- 
well with  an  air  of  polished  contempt. 

"There  is  your  pay,"  said  he.  "Let 
me  advise  you,  when  you  deal  with  gentle- 
men, to  make  your  applications  for  money 
through  the  mails.  It  will  compensate  in  a 
degree  for  the  recklessness  of  your  charges. ' ' 


58  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

Such  a  rebuke,  from  such  a  source, 
would  have  crushed  all  but  one  man  in  a 
million.  Maydwell  was  the  exception,  and 
Whiterduce  had  made  the  mistake  of  his  life. 

Maydwell,  in  truth,  had  long  been  resent- 
ful of  a  certain  assumption  of  superiority  in 
Whiterduce's  demeanor,  and  had  been  spoil- 
ing for  a  fight.  The  publicity  of  the  situa- 
tion just  suited  his  fell  purpose. 

He  took  the  check  out  of  Whiterduce's 
slender  fingers  and  neatly  tore  it  into  four 
pieces,  which  he  twisted  up  into  a  pellet, 
with  a  quaint  grimace  at  the  rapt  circle  of 
onlookers,  as  if  to  invite  their  appreciation 
of  the  most  charming  joke  in  the  world. 

"  Pynchepole,  my  boy,"  said  he,  with  a 
sort  of  subdued  laugh  in  his  tone,  rolling  the 
pellet  between  the  palms  of  his  powerful 
hands,  "I  know  you  up  to  the  handle,  but 
you  haven't  got  on  to  my  curves  yet.  You 
are  the  dirtiest  old  fraud  in  America.  You 
sit  here  and  mince  and  twiddle  your  thumbs, 
and  there  isn't  a  blackguard  in  town  low 
enough  to  look  up  to  you.  I  wouldn't  use 
your  soul  to  wipe  my  feet  on,  Pynchepole. 
You  know  I  wouldn't,  and  you  know  why, 
and  you  daren't  say  a  word.  I  can  respect  a 
thief  who  does  his  own  stealing,  and  a  thug 


THE  HOBBY  HORSE  59 

who  does  his  own  murders,  and  even  a  liar 
Avho  tells  his  own  lies ;  but  you  see,  Pynche, 
you're  not  one  of  that  sort.  I  don't  want 
your  money ;  I  know  where  it  comes  from 
and  where  it  goes  to.  Now,  you're  a  pretty 
sick  man,  and  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  pre- 
scription, and  I  shan't  charge  you  anything 
for  it." 

He  stepped  forward,  still  laughing  in  that 
peculiar  manner.  Whiterduce  tried  to  rise 
from  his  chair,  but  Maydwell  forced  him 
back.  He  seized  his  nose  between  his  right 
thumb  and  forefinger,  and  as  the  other  in- 
voluntarily opened  his  mouth  to  catch  his 
breath,  he  crammed  the  ten -thousand-dollar 
pellet  down  his  throat.  It  was  a  hideous, 
revolting  spectacle,  and  those  who  witnessed 
it  were  stricken  so  aghast  that  not  a  man  of 
them  stirred.  It  was  as  if  a  spirit  from  the 
infernal  regions  had  suddenly  risen  and  di- 
lated in  the  quiet  and  well-bred  midst  of 
them. 

The  next  minute  there  was  a  general  out- 
cry, and  half  a  dozen  sprang  to  their  feet ; 
some  gathered  about  Whiterduce;  others 
made  threatening  demonstrations  toward 
Maydwell.  He  stalked  to  the  fireplace,  set 
his  back  against  the  mantel,  and  stuck  his 


60  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

hands  in  his  pockets.  He  called  to  one  of 
the  waiters,  hovering  in  panic  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  agitated  throng,  and  ordered  a 
sherry  and  bitters.  "And  mind,  John — not 
too  much  bitters  !  You  know  how  I  take  it. ' ' 

Then  he  looked  around  at  the  hostile  and 
bewildered  faces,  and  smiled  invitingly. 

"Well,  fellows,"  he  said,  "  it  will  take 
John  about  five  minutes  to  get  that  thing 
ready.  Meantime,  if  any  of  you,  or  any 
number  of  you,  want  to  say  or  do  anything 
to  me,  or  to  call  in  a  policeman  to  say  or  do 
it  for  you,  now's  your  chance.  Don't  let 
Pynchepole  dissuade  you,  if  you  feel  that 
way.  He  has  forgiven  me  already,  because 
he's  a  Christian  ;  but  that  needn't  influence 
you.  Come,  now  !  " 

There  were  men  enough  there  who  lacked 
neither  courage  nor  strength ;  but  they  hesi- 
tated. The  whole  affair  was  un  precedent  - 
ed,  incredible.  It  seemed  as  if  some  explana- 
tion must  spontaneously  appear.  Would  not 
Whiterduce  say  something  ?  Or  perhaps  Gen- 
eral Stepyngstone's  suggestion  gave  the  true 
clew  :  "  The  man  is  crazy — stark,  staring 
mad — insane,  sir  !  " 

Before  anything  could  be  decided  on,  John 
came  with  the  glass  of  sherry  and  bitters  on 


THE  HOBBY  HORSE  61 

a  silver  tray.  Maydwell  took  the  glass  and 
put  a  silver  dollar  in  its  place.  "  I  shall 
want  the  glass  as  well  as  the  sherry,  John," 
he  observed;  "if  there's  any  change  you 
can  keep  it.  Now  then,"  he  continued,  "  I 
drink  to  the  whole  damned,  currish,  snob- 
bish pack  of  you.  The  whole  infernal  club 
boiled  down  together  hasn't  got  soul  enough 
to  salt  a  cup  of  gruel.  Here's  to  what  I  think 
of  you  !  ' ' 

He  emptied  the  contents  of  the  glass  into 
his  mouth,  then  turned  and  spat  it  out  into 
the  fire ;  he  lifted  the  glass  and  dashed  it 
into  splinters  on  the  hearth.  He  settled  his 
hat  on  his  head  and  sauntered  to  the  door, 
seeking  defiantly  to  meet  the  eyes  of  one 
after  another,  but  none  cared  to  encounter 
him.  When  a  man  chooses  to  overstep  a 
certain  limit  of  behavior  the  majority  of  his 
fellows  are  solicitous  only  to  keep  out  of  his 
way.  In  the  West  there  might  have  been 
some  shooting,  but  here  all  that  happened 
was  an  immediate  special  meeting  of  the  di- 
rectors of  the  club,  and,  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
later,  the  posting  on  the  bulletin  board  of  the 
notice  of  the  expulsion  from  the  St.  Quentin 
Club  of  Horace  Maydwell,  M.D.  Beyond 
dispute  he  richly  deserved  it,  but  neither  was 


62  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

there  room  to  doubt  that  he  had  discounted 
the  club's  action.  He  had  kicked  them  first. 
This  event  happened  two  or  three  years  pre- 
vious to  our  date.  No  solution  of  the  mys- 
tery of  the  row  had  ever  come  to  light. 
Whiterduce,  out  of  regard  for  the  reputation 
and  privacy  of  the  club,  generously  forbore 
to  prosecute  Maydwell  for  assault.  Society 
self-sacrificingly  inflicted  the  only  punish- 
ment it  could  ;  regardless  of  its  physical 
health,  it  sent  him  to  Coventry.  Nobody 
who  was  anybody  ever  again  made  applica- 
tion for  his  professional  services.  His  in- 
come, from  many  thousands  a  year,  dwindled 
to  a  mere  maintenance.  It  was  hoped  that 
he  would  be  driven  from  town,  but  he  was 
not  of  that  fibre.  He  was  unaffectedly 
pleased  with  what  he  had  done,  and  often 
went  out  of  his  way  to  stroll  up  the  fashion- 
able promenade  of  a  Sunday  afternoon  for 
the  gratification  of  grinning  in  the  faces  of 
his  former  aristocratic  acquaintances.  He 
was  obliged  to  change  his  office  to  a  less  ex- 
pensive quarter,  but  he  was  anything  but  re- 
pentant or  repining.  He  devoted  his  unsur- 
passed talents  to  the  poor  and  to  the  lower 
middle  class,  and  was  idolized  by  them.  He 
had  never  cared  for  money  except  to  give  it 


THE  HOBBY  HORSE  63 

away  or  to  spend  it  with  friends ;  now  that 
he  had  less  to  use  in  this  way  he  gave  them 
more  of  his  time  and  skill — that  was  all  the 
difference.  He  got  no  more  $10,000  fees, 
but  he  felt  richer  and  happier  than  ever,  be- 
cause he  had  freed  his  mind  and  unloaded  his 
spleen.  It  was  characteristic  of  him  that,  on 
the  evening  of  the  row,  he  called  on  one  of 
his  dearest  friends,  Gabriel  Negus,  an  astrol- 
oger. Gabriel  was  an  immense,  placid,  im- 
perturbable creature,  with  a  huge,  smooth- 
shaven  face,  the  complexion  of  a  girl,  and  a 
slow,  fateful,  self-enjoying  manner  of  speech. 

"  What  were  the  indications  for  to-day,  my 
old  love  ?  ' '  asked  Horace. 

Gabriel  opened  a  small,  well-thumbed  vol- 
ume, containing  to  the  profane  understand- 
ing nothing  but  columns  of  figures  and  an 
array  of  queer,  cramped  characters.  He 
turned  over  the  leaves  for  a  few  moments, 
murmuring  softly  to  himself,  and  then  looked 
up  with  a  slow,  arch  smile. 

"Why,  Horace,  my  dear,  I  guess  you've 
been  up  to  something  to-day.  Guess  you've 
been — shaking  out  a  reef — to-day,  eh  ?  Put 
your  foot  in  it,  up  to  the  neck,  to-day, 
Horace  !  Say,  Horace,  the  planets  sort  of 
jumped  on  you  this  time,  didn't  they?  But 


64  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

I  should  say  you  jumped  on  somebody  first 
pretty  hard.  Cost  you  a  good  deal,  but  you 
did  it — yes — you  did  it !  Looks  a  good  deal 
like  a  general  flare-up  to  me,  eh  !  Any — 
bones — broken — or — windows — smashed  ?  ' ' 
He  referred  to  the  book  once  more.  ' '  Doesn'  t 
seem  to  be  a  hanging  matter,  quite.  Loss 
of  social  standing  —  yes — and  —  money  — 
stacks  of  it !  Guess  you  must  have  been 
bucking  the  tiger,  Horace,  and  when  you 
found  they'd  done  you — you  kicked  'em — 
down — stairs  !  " 

And  the  astrologer  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  shook  gently  with  silent  laughter. 

Horace  was  fairly  enchanted  with  this  re- 
markable verification  of  his  favorite  hobby. 
He  proceeded  to  unbosom  himself.  Gabriel 
listened  to  the  tale  with  the  humorous  en- 
joyment of  one  who  knows  it  has  all  been 
written  in  the  constellations  since  the  begin- 
ning of  time,  and  that  spilt  milk  is  past  cry- 
ing for.  "But,  look  here,  my  dear,"  he 
said,  after  turning  it  over  in  his  mind  for 
a  while,  "  what  started  you  after — Brother 
Pynchepole — at  such  a  rate  ?  Don't  appear 
that  he  quite  played  up  to  you,  from  what 
you  say?  If  he'd  stolen  your  scalp  while 
you  was  asleep,  or  poisoned  your  sister-in- 


THE  HOBBY  HORSE  65 

law's  aunt  with  a  cup  o'  tea,  you  couldn't 
have — gone  for  him — much  worse  than  you 
did.  There  ain't  really  —  anything  —  spe- 
cially out  of  the  way — about  Brother  Pynche- 
pole — is  there  ?  ' ' 

"  Now,  don't  you  worry  your  dear  old 
head  about  that,"  Horace  replied.  "  I  was 
with  that  wife  of  his  when  she  didn't  know 
her  head  from  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and 
when  women  are  like  that  they  will  talk, 
though  they  don't  remember  it  themselves 
afterward.  I  don't  give  away  my  patients 
— you  know  that ;  but  if  Pynchepole  knew 
what  she  told  me,  he'd  risk  a  noose  for  the 
sake  of  insuring  its  not  going  further.  Then 
there's  another  thing.  I  was  called  in  the 
other  day  to  fix  up  a  fellow  who'd  had  a 
knife  put  into  him  down  in  a  thieves'  den 
they  call  the  Pigstye.  There's  several  good 
fellows,  friends  of  ours,  down  there.  They 
will  stick  each  other  now  and  then,  and  I'm 
always  glad  to  pull  them  through  if  I  can. 
This  poor  devil  had  to  croak,  though,  and  I 
told  him  so.  Well,  then  he  began  to  feel 
bad  in  his  mind,  the  way  some  of  those  poor 
little  damned  fools  will,  and  he  blabbed  some 
stuff  that  opened  my  eyes  more  than  I  ex- 
pected. When  he  got  through,  he  said  : 
5 


66  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

'  For  Christ's  sake,  don't  you  go  to  cure 
me  now,  Doc;  if  they  was  to  know  I'd 
squeaked,  they'd  pull  out  my  guts  and  fill  me 
up  with  red-hot  gravel !  '  I  told  him  not  to 
worry,  but  he  wouldn't  be  easy  except  I 
stayed  by  him  till  he  was  out  of  harm's  way. 
That  made  me  look  about  a  little  afterward, 
and  I  found  he'd  given  me  a  straight  tip. 
You  can  leave  me  alone  with  Brother  Pynche, 
every  time.  I  wish  you'd  seen  the  way  he 
looked  this  afternoon  !  '  And  Horace  Mayd- 
well  smiled  and  settled  his  eye-glasses. 

Gabriel  contemplated  him  thoughtfully, 
sitting  with  his  hands  spread  out  on  his 
knees  like  an  Egyptian  king.  "Yes,"  he 
muttered — "yes  —  yes;  the  doctors  hear 
funny  things,  don't  they? — and  so  do  I — so 
do  I — so  do  I  !  I'm  a  doctor,  but  I  don't 
cure  —  I  only  diagnose  —  only  diagnose  ! 
Well,  my  dear,  you'll  have  to  ran  away 
now,"  he  added,  sitting  up  and  sighing. 
"I've  got  the  anteroom  full  of  females, 
waiting  to  know  what  they  were  made  for  ; 
and  I've  got  to  explain  it  to  'em  before 
nine  o'clock.  Heigho  !  " 

The  two  friends  exchanged  a  prolonged 
and  mighty  grip — it  was  one  of  their  mutual 
jokes  to  try  to  crush  each  other's  ringer- 


THE   HOBBY  HORSE  67 

joints — and  bade  each  other  an  affectionate 
farewell. 

This  will  suffice  to  introduce  Dr.  Horace 
Maydwell  to  the  reader,  but  before  going 
further  it  is  but  fair  to  present  his  compan- 
ion. 

Polydore  Scamell — that  was  his  name — 
was  a  teacher  of  singing.  He  was  a  dark- 
complexioned,  straight-haired,  weary-look- 
ing man,  with  a  portentously  long  nose,  a 
drooping  mustache,  and  sombre,  brooding 
eyes.  His  face  was  narrow  and  meagre,  with 
deep  furrows  slanting  from  the  nostrils  to  the 
corners  of  his  mouth ;  his  chin  was  heavy 
and  square.  His  lean  throat,  with  its  prom- 
inent Adam's  apple,  and  the  outstanding 
veins  on  his  long,  knotty  hands  indicated  a 
plentiful  lack  of  flesh  on  his  bones ;  though 
the  bulky  clothing  he  habitually  wore — the 
massive  overcoats  and  flapping  trousers — 
seemed  designed  to  avert  this  revelation.  He 
was  addicted  to  a  preposterous  hat,  of  the 
old-fashioned  army  pattern,  but  with  a  brim 
of  exaggerated  breadth  ;  it  matched  his  big 
overcoat  well  enough,  but  seemed  to  be  kept 
from  slipping  down  over  his  narrow  visage 
only  by  the  ears  that  stood  out  on  either 
side.  Upon  the  whole,  he  would  have 


68  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

served  as  an  ideal  model  of  Don  Quixote,  in 
the  earlier  years  of  that  famous  gentleman's 
existence,  before  the  perusal  of  works  of 
chivalry  had  finally  tuned  him  up  to  the 
pitch  of  knight-errantry.  Weariness,  melan- 
choly, and  eccentricity  were  his  ruling  expres- 
sion in  repose. 

No  sooner  did  he  engage  in  a  conversa- 
tion that  interested  him,  however,  than  a 
transformation  came  over  him.  His  dark 
eyes  sparkled  and  laughed,  and  a  sort  of 
caressing  courtesy  shone  out  all  over  him, 
made  additionally  winning  by  a  boyish  gay- 
ety  and  naivete.  The  deep,  melodious  tones 
of  his  voice  (though  his  accent  in  speaking 
was  a  marked  nasal  drawl)  carried  out  this 
charming  impression ;  one  recognized  a  man 
whom  it  was  impossible  not  to  like  and 
trust.  Here  were  a  kind  heart  and  a  gener- 
ous soul.  There  was  an  ingenuous  comicality 
about  him  withal  that  rendered  him  irresisti- 
ble. 

Polydore  had  two  special  weaknesses.  One 
was  for  women,  of  which  be  it  only  said 
that  his  success  with  that  mysterious  sex  was 
fully  equal  to  his  enterprise ;  his  numerous 
pupils  in  the  vocal  art  were  not  attracted  to 
him  by  the  superiority  of  his  "method" 


THE   HOBBY   HORSE  69 

alone.  His  second  foible  was  concerned 
with  this  method  itself.  It  was  to  him  what 
all  distressed  damsels  and  heroic  emprises 
were  to  him  of  La  Mancha.  Any  allusion 
to  it  aroused  his  every  energy,  to  argue,  to 
advocate,  to  denounce,  to  combat,  to  pour 
forth  the  vials  of  wrath  or  the  incense  of 
praise,  as  the  case  might  be.  His  method 
was  natural,  logical,  perfect ;  all  other  meth- 
ods were  not  merely  imbecile,  vicious,  and 
suicidal,  but  all  who  taught  them  were 
thieves,  liars,  and  assassins.  There  were  not 
half  a  dozen  singers  living,  or  who  had  ever 
lived,  who  had  the  least  notion  how  to  pro- 
duce a  note  correctly.  The  so-called  great 
singers  had  attained  their  fame  in  spite  of 
incredible  mismanagement  of  the  vocal  or- 
gans ;  had  they  followed  the  method  they 
would  have  been  infinitely  greater  than  they 
were,  and  would  moreover  have  retained 
their  powers  unimpaired  to  the  utmost  limit 
of  old  age.  This  method  was  not  the  inven- 
tion of  Polydore  himself ;  had  it  been  so,  he 
would  not  have  cared  nearly  so  much  about 
it,  nor  been  so  fiercely  resentful  of  any  an- 
imadversions upon  it.  It  was  the  discovery 
of  a  friend  of  his,  a  man  now  lost  to  earth, 
but  doubtless  eminent  in  that  world  where 


yo  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

singing  is  done  as  it  should  be.  Polydore 
seems  to  have  been  the  only  pupil  the  in- 
ventor ever  had  ;  how  much  his  appreciation 
of  the  discovery  was  influenced  by  his  affec- 
tion for  his  friend  we  need  not  inquire.  At 
all  events,  when  his  friend  died,  unhonored 
and  unsung,  Polydore  Scamell  gave  up  his 
profession  as  eccentric  actor,  in  which  he 
was  making  a  good  living,  to  devote  himself 
henceforth  wholly  to  the  vindication  and  in- 
culcation of  the  method,  and,  incidentally, 
of  his  dead  friend's  virtues,  genius,  and  neg- 
lect. And  whoever  wished  to  take  the  di- 
rect road  to  Polydore's  inmost  heart  need  do 
no  more  than  profess  his  adherence  to  the 
method.  With  that  to  recommend  him  all 
faults  were  dazzled  out  of  sight.  Horace 
Maydwell,  who  really  approved  of  the  method 
on  physiological  grounds,  was  the  nearest 
brother  of  his  soul,  ever  ready  to  listen  and 
sympathize  ;  and  in  return  Polydore  was  al- 
ways prepared  to  celebrate  the  supreme  value 
of  a  discovery  of  the  doctor's — how  to  make 
hair  grow  on  bald  heads.  Maydwell,  before 
publishing  his  discovery  to  the  world,  was 
testing  it  upon  his  own  bare  poll,  and  had 
been  doing  so  for  ten  years  past,  believing, 
and  persuading  Polydore  to  believe,  that  it 


THE   HOBBY   HORSE  71 

was  producing  a  marvellous  effect,  albeit  to 
the  eye  of  love  and  faith  alone  was  any  effect 
discernible.  There  was  no  question  (having 
in  view  the  number  of  bald  people,  anxious 
for  hair,  in  the  world)  that  the  invention, 
once  it  was  launched  on  the  market,  would 
bring  in  millions  of  money,  and  the  two 
friends  often  solaced  themselves  with  discus- 
sions of  how,  when  the  physiological  hair- 
grower  and  the  natural  singing  method 
should  be  established  in  public  favor,  they 
would  make  each  other,  and  all  good  per- 
sons, happy  with  the  pecuniary  returns. 
Gabriel  Negus  was  admitted  the  third  in 
their  councils,  filling  the  post  of  soothsayer 
and  prophet  in  ordinary.  Polydore  was 
quite  as  ardent  an  astrologer  as  either  of  the 
others,  and  was  unwearying  in  hunting  out 
favorable  dates  and  aspects.  History  men- 
tions several  triumvirates,  but  none  so  mutu- 
ally well  disposed,  so  free  from  internecine 
jealousies,  and  so  fruitful  of  innocent  felicity 
as  was  this. 

Horace  Maydwell  and  Polydore  Scamell, 
then,  sat  with  Heinrich  on  this  night  of  No- 
vember 1 3th  in  the  little  back  room  of  the 
Hobby  Horse  and  communed  together. 
Each  had  a  glass  of  beer  before  him,  and 


72  A  FOOL   OF  NATURE 

Polydore  was  smoking  a  cigar.  Horace  did 
not  smoke,  and,  indeed,  was  a  very  light 
drinker  also,  though,  out  of  regard  for 
Heinrich,  he  would  not  omit  to  give  his 
order. 

"  Twelve  o'clock,"  said  Polydore,  taking 
a  look  at  his  heavy  German-silver  watch. 
"  Time  the  boy  was  here." 

"Give  him  rope,"  returned  Horace; 
"  he  doesn't  come  of  age  every  day." 

"Prehaps,"  said  Polydore,  who  had  his 
own  way  of  pronouncing  certain  words, 
"  his  rope' 11  tangle  him  up  so  he  can't  get 
here. ' ' 

"  That  would  be  highly  imp-rope-er,"  ob- 
served Horace,  enunciating  the  atrocity  with 
the  most  sedulous  distinctness,  and  grinning 
shamelessly.  Polydore,  made  callous  by 
custom,  simply  gave  a  twist  to  his  long 
nose,  as  at  an  unholy  odor,  and  took  a  swal- 
low of  beer. 

"  Funny — he  ain't  any  more  like  the  old 
man  than  I  am  like  a  keg  of  oysters,"  he 
remarked,  meditatively.  "  Knocks  out  the 
heredity  racket,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

Horace  turned  up  his  chin  and  rubbed  the 
short  beard  on  his  throat.  "  Heredity's  all 
right;  but  you  can't  expect  her  to  get  out 


THE  HOBBY  HORSE  73 

two  such  pills  as  old  Pynche  in  one  genera- 
tion." 

"  Used  up  all  the  poison  on  him,  and  had 
nothing  left  for  the  youngster  but  bread  and 
milk — was  that  the  way  ?  ' ' 

"  There's  solider  stuff  than  bread  and 
milk  in  little  Murgy,"  replied  the  other. 
"  He's  got  a  heart  fills  his  body  and  most  of 
his  noddle,  too,  bless  him  !  And  fists  and 
shoulders,  plenty  of  'em  ;  he'll  do." 

"And  money,  a  little,"  added  Polydore, 
sending  out  two  columns  of  smoke  from  his 
nostrils. 

"  He'd  be  better  off  without  that." 

"Well,  there's  one  good  thing  about 
money,  a  fellow  can  get  quit  of  it  easy," 
Polydore  observed,  with  a  sigh.  "Hullo, 
there's  our  business  now  !  Come  in  here, 
Murgy  ;  we're  waiting  for  you  !  " 

Murgatroyd,  in  evening  dress,  with  his 
collar  turned  up  and  a  distraught  expression 
on  his  clumsy,  guileless  phiz,  was  standing 
outside  the  bar.  Frau  Pilsen  leaned  for- 
ward, unhitched  the  catch  of  the  wicket  and 
admitted  him.  He  took  a  step  or  two  in 
the  direction  of  the  table  and  stopped. 

But  Horace  had  jumped  up,  and  met  him 
with  o;)en  arms. 


74  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  Why,  the  little  pet !  "  cried  he  ;  "  did 
it  get  here  after  all  ?  And  was  it  twenty- 
one  years  old  ?  And  didn't  it  forget  its 
friends  that  loved  it  ?  Was  it  loaded  up  to 
the  neck  with  nasty  champagne  and  birth- 
day cake?  Never  mind  ;  it  shall  have  some 
of  Herr  Heinrich's  good  beer,  to  take  the 
taste  away  !  Gentlemen,  I  present  to  you 
the  best  little  boy  in  town.  Frati  Pilsen — 
Heinrich — Poly — catch  hold  of  him,  and 
give  him  a  shake  for  luck  !  Twenty-one 
years  old,  and  looks  as  young  as  ever  !  " 
All  this  was  accompanied  with  jolly  laughs, 
huggings,  and  solid  thumps  on  the  back  and 
chest.  Meantime,  the  others  had  gathered 
round.  Frau  Pilsen  descended  from  her 
stool  and  waddled  up,  smiling  horribly, 
volleying  guttural  good  wishes.  Polydore 
had  a  long  arm  around  his  neck,  and  was 
intoning,  in  the  natural  method,  "  Good 
for  you,  Murgy !  Many  happy  returns  ! 
You're  a  sight  for  sore  eyes,  boy  !  "  And 
cubical  Herr  Heinrich,  who  had  been  sitting 
with  half-closed  eyes,  taking  no  further  part 
in  the  conversation  than  to  exchange  a  som- 
nolent glance  of  intelligence  with  the  others, 
and  periodically  to  lower  the  beer  level  in 
his  schoppen,  now  set  himself  on  end  and 


THE   HOBBY  HORSE  75 

grasped  Murgatroyd's  disengaged  hand  in 
his  "  Guter  freund,  I  maig  you  my  geburt- 
stag  gompliment ;  viel,  viel  vergnugen ! 
'Lischen,  lass'  e'mal  fuenf  glas  bier  holen  ! 
Gendlemen,  all  drink  vat  heute  abend  hier 
bestellt  wird,  geht  ya  auf  meine  rechnung — 
I  bays  all  beers  of  dis  dable  to-naid,  ver- 
standten  ?  Na,  gut !  Stosst  an,  meine 
Herren — Herrn  Murger  !  Mahlzeit,  Gesund- 
heit,  Prosit  !  Aus  !  " 

Murgatroyd  did  not  drink  his  own  health 
this  time,  but  the  glasses  of  the  others — Frau 
Pilsen's,  too — met  together  with  a  hearty 
clink,  and — Aus  ! — no  heeltaps.  Herr  Hein- 
rich  absorbed  his  in  four  swallows  ;  Poly- 
dore  had  to  take  fresh  breath  several  times 
before  he  could  get  all  his  liquor  down  his 
lean  neck ;  Frau  Pilsen  finished  a  trifle  in 
advance  of  Polydore,  and  emerged,  crimson 
and  smiling,  and  daintily  wiped  her  Gorgon 
lips  with  a  very  small  and  dirty,  but  lace- 
edged  handkerchief.  Horace  Maydwell, 
however,  approved  himself  the  champion  of 
this  bout.  Many  a  beer  duel  had  he  won  in 
the  old  Munich  and  Berlin  days,  owing  to  a 
somewhat  rare  physiological  faculty  that  he 
possessed.  He  tilted  his  head  back,  and 
keeping  the  entrance  of  his  gullet  open,  emp- 


76  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

tied  the  entire  schoppen  of  beer  down  it 
without  swallowing  at  all.  One  gulp,  and 
all  was  gone !  It  was  like  magic.  The  feat 
was  greeted  with  admiring  applause,  even 
from  the  mighty  Heinrich.  "  Iv  you  vould 
drink  zo  ovton  as  you  can  maig  it  quick, 
mein  lieber,"  he  remarked,  with  a  sleepy 
smile,  ' '  you  vas  been  der  largest  doper  was 
est  gibt  !  " 

"I'll  do  it  every  time  Murgy  is  twenty- 
one,"  said  Horace,  adjusting  his  eye-glasses. 
"  Sit  down  now,  old  Sweetness,  and  tell  us 
all  about  it !  "  And  they  took  their  places 
around  the  table,  all  except  Frau  Pilsen,  who 
had  waddled  back  to  her  stool  of  office. 

Murgatroyd  sat  for  a  few  moments,  staring 
straight  before  him,  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
twitching.  Was  it  the  difference  between 
this  greeting  and  that  which  he  had  lately 
experienced  at  his  own  table  that  affected 
him  ?  Nothing  so  melts  the  heart  as  the 
glow  of  lovingkindness  following  close  upon 
the  frigid  phosphorescence  of  selfish  conven- 
tion. It  was  too  much  for  Murgatroyd, 
whose  soul  had  been  searched  as  never  be- 
fore that  evening.  He  suddenly  dropped 
his  head  upon  his  arms  on  the  table  and 
burst  out  crying. 


CHAPTER  V 

MAKING   A   NIGHT   OF    IT 

But  the  heart  of  a  boy  soon  recovers  itself, 
and  Murgatroyd  was  helped  toward  his  self- 
possession  by  the  tact  of  his  companions, 
who  began  at  once  to  talk  and  laugh  to  one 
another  about  anything  and  nothing,  as  if  all 
grief  and  grievance  were  illusion.  The 
young  fellow  sat  up  at  last,  wiped  his  eyes 
on  the  butt  of  his  hand,  and  said  :  "  You 
all  know  I'm  a  damned  fool,  so  it's  all 
right." 

"  You  shall  be  as  much  of  any  kind  of  a 
fool  as  you  like,"  said  Horace,  tenderly. 

"But  if  anybody  else  says  he  is,  we'll 
smash  him,"  added  Polydore. 

"  Lischen,  hoi'  'mal  den  Herrn  noch  ein 
frisches  !  "  ordered  Heinrich,  peremptorily. 

Then  they  began  to  have  a  good  time  with 
might  and  main.  Polydore  put  forth  a  won- 
derful gift  he  had  for  telling  comkal  narra- 
tives, out  of  his  own  experience,  both  on 


y8  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

the  stage  and  in  the  affairs  of  private  life. 
His  mind  was  like  a  magic  mirror,  giving  a 
quaint  twist  to  whatever  was  reflected  into 
it.  Most  of  them  had  a  touch  or  so  too 
Rabelaisian  for  sober  print — these  reminis- 
cences of  Polydore ;  but  they  did  no  harm 
as  the  narrator  produced  them.  Horace 
studded  the  talk  with  puns,  from  which 
Heinrich  alone  emerged  unscathed,  for  he 
comprehended  them  not.  But,  by  degrees, 
Murgatroyd — he,  himself,  who  erewhile,  in 
the  select  circle  where  he  should  have  felt 
most  at  his  ease,  had  been  as  an  alien  and 
miserable — Murgatroyd  now  blossomed  forth 
luxuriantly,  and  revealed  a  host  of  compan- 
ionable and  frolicsome  qualities.  In  this 
congenial  atmosphere  and  company  he  could 
not  and  sought  not  to  prevent  his  simple 
nature  from  flowing  forth  and  displaying  its 
strength  and  weakness.  Simple,  transpar- 
ent, spontaneous  truly  he  was,  yet,  as  Mayd- 
well  had  said,  there  was  something  more  than 
bread  and  milk  in  his  makeup.  His  social 
instincts  were  as  thorough  as  those  of  a  pet 
Newfoundland  dog — he  responded  with  every 
fibre  to  a  human  touch.  He  understood  and 
reacted  to  whatever  was  natural ;  it  was  only 
the  artificial  that  embarrassed  and  silenced 


MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT  79 

him.  Accordingly,  his  character  now  de- 
veloped definite  form  and  quality.  He  was 
a  type  ;  he  stood  for  something  real,  though 
it  was  not  a  patrician  reality.  He  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  the  hour,  and  the  spjrit  en- 
tered into  him.  There  is  nothing  that  a 
boy  can  say  or  do  to  afford  intellectual  in- 
terest to  grown  men,  but  that  is  because  he 
has  no  perspective  of  memory,  no  atmos- 
phere of  experience,  to  compass  those  effects 
whereby  the  intellect  is  won.  The  veriest 
child,  however,  may  command  a  sort  of  in- 
terest in  his  elders  which  is  far  more  potent 
than  the  intellectual,  because  it  is  aroused  by 
the  deepest,  broadest  quality  in  man's  nature, 
common  alike  to  child  and  man  of  the 
world.  Years  expand  but  do  not  create  the 
essential  human  things. 

Murgatroyd  made  his  friends  happy  by 
showing  them  how  happy  they  made  him. 
He  sang,  with  spirit  and  humor,  and  with- 
out fear  of  the  method,  some  college  non- 
sense songs  ;  he  related  how  he  and  a  glut- 
ton in  the  class  above  his  had  eaten  oysters 
for  a  wager,  the  loser  to  pay  for  all  the 
oysters.  His  antagonist  had  collapsed  on 
his  twenty-second  dozen  ;  Murgatroyd  had 
finished  thirty  dozen — raw,  stewed,  fried, 


So  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

boiled,  and  steamed — with  plenty  of  crack- 
ers ;  and  had  then  walked  into  town,  three 
miles,  and  eaten  a  couple  of  lobsters  for 
supper.  All  this  occurred  while  he  was 
training  for  the  crew.  The  coach  heard  of 
it  and  had  ' '  fired  ' '  him ;  though,  really,  he 
had  felt  better  than  ever  the  morning  after. 
He  told  this  anecdote  because  he  thought 
it  would  entertain  his  listeners,  as  it  did, 
with  his  telling ;  but  it  did  not  occur  to 
him  to  narrate  an  episode  that  took  place 
the  day  following  his  expulsion  from  the 
boat.  How,  being  out  in  his  own  wherry 
to  see  the  crew  row  by,  with  the  hard-heart- 
ed coach  after  them  in  a  steam-launch,  that 
gentleman,  in  the  midst  of  one  of  his  most 
frenzied  objurgations,  had  incontinently 
taken  a  header  off  the  bows  of  the  launch, 
which  had  run  over  him.  Murgatroyd, 
knowing  that  the  man  could  not  swim,  had 
plunged  to  his  rescue,  and  not  without  in- 
convenience had  managed  to  keep  his  head 
above  water  till  the  launch  picked  them  up. 
There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  this  epi- 
sode, as  in  that  of  the  oysters  and  lobsters, 
so  Murgatroyd  made  no  mention  of  it. 

But  he  made  them  laugh  with  the  account 
he  gave  of  the  interview  in  which  the  presi- 


MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT  81 

dent  of  the  college  had  insinuated  the  in- 
formation that  Murgatroyd  would  have  to 
slink  through  the  world  unprotected  by  a 
sheepskin.  It  had  been  at  the  time  any- 
thing but  a  laughing  matter  to  Murgatroyd 
himself,  but,  as  he  remarked,  "somehow 
when  you've  got  through  with  a  scare,  it 
most  always  seems  funny."  "But  look 
here,  Murgy,"  said  Polydore,  "wouldn't 
you  sooner  have  the  sheep  boiled  with  ca- 
pers, than  the  sheepskin  ?  What  was  it 
scared  you  ?  ' ' 

"Oh,  it  was  father  I  was  scared  of," 
Murgy  replied. 

"Yes — gave  you  hell  and  Tommy,  didn't 
he?"  said  Horace,  between  his  teeth. 

"  He  was  just  lovely  to  me,"  returned 
the  boy,  with  much  feeling.  "  He  always 
is.  I  don't  see  how  he  can  be  to  such  an 
idiot  as  I  am.  What  scares  me  is  that  he 
tells  me  what  he'd  like  me  to  do  and  to  be, 
and  all  that,  and  then  I  don't  and  ain't, 
and  then  I  think,  if  I  was  he,  what  a  dress- 
ing I'd  give  me ;  but  all  he  ever  does  is  just 
smile  and  say,  '  That's  no  matter  ;  that's 
all  right !  '  But  I'm  so  different  from  him  ! 
I  don't  see  how  a  son  can  be,  but  I  am.  I 
guess  that's  what  scares  me  and  makes  me 
6 


82  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

so  miserable,  because  I  can't  help  it.  Just 
think  of  a  man  like  him,  at  the  top  of  every- 
thing, having  a  son  like  me !  I'd  pretty 
near  kill  me,  sometimes,  if  I  was  him  !  It 
would  have  been  all  right,  by  thunder,  if 
I'd  been  the  footman  or  the  groom  ;  I  could 
have  been  that  just  as  well  as  anybody,  and 
everybody'd  been  happy.  I  don't  like  swell 
people ;  I  like  you  fellows  and  servants  and 
tramps — and  I  like  Sally  Wintle,  our  house- 
maid ;  she  gives  me  things  to  eat  in  the 
pantry,  and  I  can  sit  and  chat  with  her  as 
thick  as  you  please ;  she's  right  pretty  and 
nice,  I  think.  If  I  was  the  footman,  I'd 
marry  her  ;  she'd  have  me,  I  guess.  I  could 
make  her  happy,  I  guess,  but  what  good  can 

I  ever  be  to  Miss  — .     I  tell  you  what, 

I  don't  understand  these  things.  I  wished 
I  was  dead  at  dinner  this  evening,  but  I  can 
see  well  enough  that  it  wasn't  their  fault ; 
it  wasn't  mine  either,  for  I'd  give  anything 
to  be  able  to  do  the  right  thing,  but  I 
couldn't.  It  wasn't  anybody's  fault,  and 
that's  the  worst  of  it,  for  what's  to  be  done  ? 
And  now  that  I'm  twenty-one,  it'll  keep 
getting  worse  and  worse  !  I  suppose  that's 
what  makes  poor  mother  so  unhappy  ;  she 
can't  bear  to  talk  and  be  jolly  with  me,  like 


MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT  83 

other  fellows'  mothers,  for  fear  I'll  say  or 
do  something  beastly.  But  when  I  sneak  up 
and  sit  in  the  housekeeper's  room — old  Mrs. 
Ramage — she  makes  me  feel  as  cosey  and 
homelike  as  can  be.  I  like  the  way  she 
talks,  servants'  talk,  not  grammatical  and 
clever,  like  the  ladies  that  come  to  call. 
And  I'd  a  hundred  times  rather  go  and  sit 
with^  the  grooms  in  the  stable  and  chat  with 
them,  than  go  to  the  St.  Quentin  Club, 
where  they're  all  so  witty  and  gentlemanly. 
There  was  a  fellow  in  the  class  above  me  in 
college,  told  me  once  I  was  a  damned  cad, 
and  my  fellows  said  I  ought  to  lick  him,  and 
I  could  have,  easy  enough  ;  but  I  didn't ;  I 
thought  he  said  just  the  truth.  I  think  the 
best  thing  I  can  do  would  be  to  run  away 
and  hide,  so  as  they  could  never  find  me.  I 
guess  they  wouldn't  try  very  hard,  and  I 
wouldn't  blame  'em."  Here,  Murgatroyd 
finished  his  beer. 

"  Lischen — noch  eins  —  schnell !  "  said 
Heinrich. 

"  Run  away  ?  Not  you  !  You  stay  where 
you  are,  and  let  them  run  away  if  they  want 
to  !  "  said  Horace,  angrily.  "Be  as  low 
as  you  know  how  ;  rub  it  into  'em !  Sit  at 
table  in  your  shirt-sleeves  and  eat  with  your 


84  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

knife,  and  wipe  your  mouth  on  the  back  of 
your  hand  !  You've  as  good  a  right  to  be 
what  you  are  as  they  have ;  if  your  father 
and  mother  aren't  suited  with  you,  ask  'em 
what  the  devil  they  begot  you  for  ?  You 
didn't  force  'em  to  !  " 

Murgatroyd  shook  his  head. 

"  If  I  could  talk  to  'em  that  way  I  wouldn't 
be  what  I  am,  and  then  it  would  be  all  right." 

"  He  might  hop  the  broomstick  with  Sally, 
though,"  observed  Polydore,  stroking  his 
long  nose;  "that  would  bring  things  into 
shape  in  the  wink  of  a  goat's  tail !  " 

The  current  of  conversation  was  at  this 
juncture  diverted  by  a  new  arrival.  Through 
the  little  wicket -gate  came  a  jaunty  and  pretty 
feminine  figure,  and  looming  behind  her  the 
substantial  person  of  the  astrologer,  Gabriel 
Negus.  The  young  lady,  as  she  entered, 
struck  a  pose,  trilled  an  arpeggio,  executed 
the  neatest  and  most  discreet  kick  imagina- 
ble, kissed  both  her  hands  to  the  company, 
and  exclaimed: — "Hooray,  boys.  Keep 
your  shirts  on  !  It's  me  and  Gabe ;  that's 
all.  Knew  you'd  be  here.  How's  my 
ducky-daddies?"  The  latter  inquiry  was 
addressed  to  Polydore,  and  was  accompanied 
by  a  pair  of  little  hands  passed  caressingly 


MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT  85 

down  his  cheeks  and  giving  a  twist  to  his 
mustachios.  Then  she  patted  the  doctor  on 
his  bald  head,  winked  at  Heinrich,  and 
stuck  out  her  pretty  lips  in  a  provoking 
manner  at  Murgatroyd. 

"Gabriel  and  his  trumpet  in  the  morn- 
ing," said  Horace,  drawing  up  a  chair  for 
her  between  him  and  Polydore.  "Is  the 
star  in  the  ascendant  to-night?  Did  you 
bring  the  astrologer,  or  he  you  ?  You  look 
the  more  '  fetching '  of  the  two,  seems  to  me." 

"  Look  here,  Letitia,"  said  Polydore, 
"you'd  ought  to  have  been  abed  an  hour 
ago,  and  you  know  it.  Do  you  suppose  I 
am  going  to  slave  myself  to  death  for  you, 
to  have  you  go  and  cut  up  like  this  ?  You'll 
get  the  punomonia  first  thing  you  know,  and 
instead  of  writing  up  the  grand  success  of 
the  charming  young  prima  donna,  Letitia 
Valentine,  in  her  new  opera,  it'll  be  'Sad 
death  from  exposure:  A  prominent  pupil  of 
Professor  Scamel,  the  famous  instructor  in 
the '" 

The  prima  donna  beat  a  tattoo  on  the  table 
with  her  hands,  and  made  bewitching  grim- 
aces of  defiance. 

"  I  vow,  how  can  you  boys  sit  by  and 
hear  him  abuse  me  like  that  ?  Who  was 


86  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

your  nigger  last,  Mr.  Natural  Method  ? 
That's  all  you  care  about — for  me  to  adver- 
tise your  stupid  old  method  ;  you  don't  love 
me  for  myself  one  bit !  All  right ;  never 
mind,  I  know  somebody  that  does ;  and  he's 
rich,  and  he'll  marry  me  for  my  goodness 
and  beauty,  and  take  me  off  the  stage,  and 
make  my  every  lightest  wish  his  law — won't 
you,  Mur-ga-troyd,  sweetheart?  Only  you 
must  take  my  name  instead  of  me  yours,  for 
I  never  could  be  the  faithful  helpmeet  of  a 
man  who  made  me  have  a  sore-throat  every 
time  I  called  him !  Talk  about  pun-umonia  ! 
Well,  I  don't  care.  Gabe  says  I'm  bound 
to  be  rich  and  famous  anyway.  It's  written 
above.  Kismet — no,  Poly,  I  didn't  say  kiss 
me,  and  I  won't  forgive  you.  Please,  Herr 
Heinrich,  may  I  have  some  beer  ?  These 
fellows  think,  because  I'm  an  angel,  I  can 
live  without  food  and  drink  and  sitting  up 
nights  now  and  then.  Nobody  knows  what 
an  angel  needs  so  well  as  the  angel  herself. 
Besides,  the  doctor  can  cure  me,  no  matter 
what  I  do;  can't  you,  Horace?  The  man 
who  said  prevention's  better  than  cure  didn't 
know  how  to  live.  I  prefer  cure  every  time  ! 
Only  show  me  the  doctor  who  guarantees 
that,  and  I  go  for  him  so  quick  you  couldn't 


MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT  87 

see  me  for  dust !  Why,  for  pity's  sake,  don't 
some  one  say  something  ?  Do  you  suppose 
I  can  talk  to  you  all  the  morning,  after  sing- 
ing to  the  blessed  public  all  night  at  $75  a 
week  and  find  my  own  maid  ?  Sjay,  why 
didn't  you  boys  take  a  box  this  evening  ?  I 
just  swept 'em  off  their  feet,  didn't  I,  Gabe?  " 

"  I  expect — maybe — you  would  have — if 
they'd — been  on  'em,"  answered  the  sooth- 
sayer, letting  his  eyes,  with  a  twinkle  in 
them,  slowly  travel  from  face  to  face,  and 
then  bending  over  in  a  paroxysm  of  noise- 
less laughter. 

"  I  wish  there  were  more  girls  of  your 
sort,  Letty,"  said  Murgatroyd,  grinning  de- 
lightedly at  her.  "I'd  rather  hear  you 
than  eat,  whether  it's  singing  or  talking." 

"He's  been  eating  his  birthday  dinner 
and  it  didn't  agree  with  him,"  Horace  ex- 
plained. "  He's  twenty-one." 

"Twenty-one?  My  !  Who'd  think  it? 
He  doesn't  look  dry  behind  the  ears  yet. 
My  dear,  I'd  give  you  twenty-one  kisses  if  I 
wasn't  afraid  of  spoiling  you.  Why  didn't 
you  invite  me  to  the  dinner  and  put  a  check 
for  a  million  under  my  plate  ?  Do  you 
think  your  pa  would  give  me  a  diamond 
necklace  if  I  agreed  to  kick  his  hat  off?  I 


88  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

wouldn't  do  it  for  that,  though ;  it  would 
bear  my  stock." 

"  What  you  mean  is,  if  he  asked  you  to 
kick  on  those  terms  you  wouldn't  kick," 
said  Horace,  resolute  to  let  no  opening  es- 
cape him. 

"  That's  rather  above  your  average, 
friend, ' '  remarked  Gabriel.  ' '  If  you  could 
— only — make  'em  so  fine  that  nobody'd 
— tumble  to  'em — it  would  be  perfect!  " 
and  he  bowed  himself  down  once  more. 

Polydore  opened  his  mouth  and  yawned. 

' '  Gracious  !  ' '  cried  Letitia,  with  a  dra- 
matic start ;  "to  think  of  me  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  such  a  crater  as  that,  and  no  insur- 
ance! Murgy,  I'm  coming  round  to  you. 
You've  had  your  dinner,  so  there's  no  dan- 
ger of  your  swallowing  a  poor  girl  alive." 
She  jumped  to  her  feet,  when  her  eyes  fell 
on  a  violin  case  standing  in  the  corner. 
"  Oh,  Herr  Heinrich  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
clapping  her  hands,  "let's  have  a  dance! 
Give  us  a  jig  and  wake  the  boys  up.  And 
then  I'll  sing  you  my  last  new  number. 
Come  on,  Frau  Pilsen,  let's  we  two  girls 
wake  these  stupids  up  !  " 

Frau  Pilsen's  figure  was  not  such  as  a 
maitre  de  ballet  would  have  been  likely  to 


MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT  89 

select  as  suitable  for  a  premiere  danseuse  in 
the  grand  opera.  Her  body  had  the  form  of 
an  egg,  loosely  confined  near  the  middle  by 
a  string.  Upon  the  top  of  this  was  set  a 
huge  head  with  no  neck ;  while  her  large, 
fat  feet  bulged  out  of  slippers  much  too 
small  for  them.  But  one  must  not  judge  by 
outward  appearances ;  if  the  spirit  be  right, 
the  accidents  of  the  material  envelope  are  of 
small  import. 

The  hour  for  closing  the  saloon  had  for 
some  time  been  passed,  and  every  guest  in 
the  outer  room  had  departed.  The  table  in 
the  small  room  was  moved  into  a  corner,  and 
Herr  Heinrich  seated  himself  upon  it,  tuck- 
ing his  fiddle  under  his  chin.  The  other 
men  ranged  themselves  round  the  walls. 
Letitia  took  up  a  position  on  the  small  va- 
cant space  of  floor,  and  Frau  Pilsen,  all 
smiles  and  graces,  planted  herself  opposite. 
The  music  began. 

Letitia' s  every  movement  was  grace,  and 
there  was  in  her  also  a  verve,  a  chic,  and  a 
roguish  significance  that  vastly  heightened 
the  fascination  of  her  performance.  But 
Frau  Pilsen  was  wonderful — almost  incredi- 
ble !  Her  movements  were  not  extensive, 
nor  were  they  violent.  They  were  little 


90  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

more  than  suggestions,  but  they  were  the 
suggestions  of  genius.  The  beckoning  of  a 
foot,  the  intimation  of  a  knee,  the  defiance 
of  a  bust,  the  challenge  of  a  wrist — above  all, 
the  fathomless  diablerie  of  a  pair  of  eyes 
which  till  now  had  seemed  but  punctures  in 
a  broadside  of  rubicund  visage,  and  the 
slightest  inclinations  and  upturnings  of  the 
head,  hitherto  intractable — an  attempt  to 
convey  these  things  humiliates  the  writer  by 
the  revelation  of  the  total  inadequacy  of 
language.  What  depths  of  mischievous 
archness,  of  knowledge  of  human  nature,  of 
humorous  naughtiness,  of  seductive  subtlety, 
became  radiant  from  this  seeming  clumsy 
mass  of  woman  !  What  intelligence,  what 
point,  what  accuracy  !  From  one  point  of 
view  she  was  grotesque,  preposterous,  ludi- 
crous, but  to  a  keener  penetration  the  mind, 
the  soul  within  the  outer  grossness,  became 
discernible,  and  beside  its  achievement  even 
Letitia's  sparkling  skill  must  admit  itself  out- 
done. The  pair  of  them  combined  to  pre- 
sent a  cancan  of  merit  so  transcendent  as  this 
dull  earth  has  seldom  witnessed. 

Meanwhile  Herr  Heinrich  nodded  his  head 
with  rhythmic  complacency,  and  sent  his 
bow  capering  over  the  strings,  and  the  spec- 


MAKING  A   NIGHT  OF  IT  91 

tators  beat  time  with  soft  hand-clappings, 
and  occasional  irrepressible  murmurs  of  joy, 
all  being  done  with  sedulous  precaution  to 
keep  within  the  limit  of  noise  permissible  in 
the  place  and  hour.  The  little  room's  win- 
dow gave  upon  an  inner  court,  and  the  shut- 
ters were  closed,  so  that  no  one  passing  along 
the  alley  would  have  detected  any  sound. 
But  suddenly  the  fiddle  bow  stopped  and 
the  fiddler  lifted  his  hand.  The  dancers 
dropped  panting  into  their  chairs  and  all 
was  still. 

"  Harg  !  "  said  Heinrich,  elevating  his 
forefinger  in  front  of  his  nose,  and  inclining 
his  head  to  one  side. 

A  tapping  on  the  outside  of  the  shutter 
was  audible — very  light,  but  given  in  a  cer- 
tain measure.  There  was  a  short  pause,  and 
then  it  was  repeated  in  the  same  way. 

"  Bobbies  ?  "  whispered  Polydore. 

"  Nein,  nein  !  Was  das  Polizei  betrifft, 
vor  dat  we  are  all  right,"  said  Heinrich, 
getting  down  from  the  table  and  returning 
the  fiddle  to  its  case.  "  It  will  be  dose  vel- 
lows — I  had  forgodden — some  beople  dat 
will  business  disguss  privat  bedween  dem- 
selves,  vat  I  dold  gould  gome  here.  Na, 
beste  freunde,  it  will  be  a  liddle  lade  al- 


92  A   FOOL  OF  NATURE 

ready.  Dill  to-morrow  it  must  be  gut 
night.  Lischen  !  Mac'  'mal  die  thuer' 
offen  fur  den  Herrshaft  !  Beste  empfehlung 
— wohl  zu  bekommen — adieu  !  " 

They  filed  out  in  silence,  each  exchanging 
a  nod  or  a  touch  of  the  hand  with  Frau  Pil- 
sen  as  she  stood  beside  the  open  door.  The 
last  to  emerge  into  the  open  air  was,  as  it 
happened,  Murgatroyd.  He  stopped  a  mo- 
ment at  the  foot  of  the  steps  to  turn  up  his 
coat  collar,  having  neglected  to  bring  an 
overcoat.  The  others  had  gone  forward  in 
the  darkness.  As  he  moved  to  follow  them 
he  felt  a  touch  on  the  shoulder  and  turned. 
A  man  of  medium  stature  was  before  him, 
but  it  was  too  dark  to  discern  his  features  or 
any  details  of  his  appearance. 

"Beg  pardon,"  said  the  man,  with  a 
slightly  Irish  intonation,  "  would  your  name 
be  Whiterduce?" 

"Yes.     Who  are  you?" 

"  Smith  is  my  name.  I  know  your 
father.  Would  he  be  at  his  office  to-morrow 
morning,  do  you  know  ?  He  did  me  a  ser- 
vice, and  I'd  be  glad  to  pay  my  acknowledg- 
ments. ' ' 

' '  At  his  office  ?  I  guess  not.  He  doesn '  t 
often  go  there.  By  the  way,  he  will  be 


MAKING  A  NIGHT  OF  IT  93 

there  to-morrow  morning,  though,  about  ten 
o'clock.  I'll  tell  him " 

"No,  no,  don't  trouble  yourself;  I'll 
may  be  not  see  him  after  all.  The  thought 
just  crossed  my  mind.  Sorry  to  •  trouble 
you;  good- night,  sir." 

He  drew  back  and  was  lost  in  the  dark- 
ness, but  Murgatroyd  fancied  he  saw  two  or 
three  other  ambiguous  figures  in  the  obscur- 
ity to  the  left  of  the  steps.  He  walked  on, 
and  found  the  others  awaiting  him  at  the 
alley  entrance. 

"Hollo,  little  pet,"  said  Horace,  as  he 
joined  them,  "  we  weren't  sure  but  you'd 
gone  on  ahead  of  us.  Stopped  for  a  flirt 
with  Frau  Pilsen,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Some  fellow  wanted  to  see  my  father. 
No  consequence,  I  guess.  It  reminded  me  I 
have  an  appointment  with  my  father  at  his 
office  to-morrow  afternoon.  Guess  I'd  bet- 
ter trot  home  now — it's  cold  !  " 

"Be  off  with  you,  bless  you,"  was  the 
reply,  and  with  a  good-night  to  the  others 
Murgatroyd  jogged  away. 


CHAPTER   VI 

TWO    VOICES 

"  Why  did  you  do  it?  What  can  com- 
pensate for  it  ?  It  is  a  sin  against  him,  too, 
poor  creature,  as  well  as  against  me — and 
nature  !  You  cannot  justify  it !  " 

"  Be  moderate,  Arabella.  You  are  losing 
your  judgment.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  that 
indiscretion  of  yours  at  the  table  last  night. 
I'm  afraid  others  noticed  it.  It  was  bad 
taste." 

"  I  can't  bear  it  much  longer.  Remem- 
ber what  I  was,  and  look  at  me  now  !  A 
living  death.  Oh,  it's  the  truth  !  Twenty- 
one  years  of  shame  and  falsehood  !  I've 
done  all  a  woman  can  do ;  but  I'm  not  a 
woman — everything  womanly  in  me  has  been 
tortured  till  it's  dead.  But  sometimes  it 
comes  over  me  what  life  was  and  might  have 
been,  and  then  something  struggles  to  break 
out  of  me  ;  I  suppose  it's  madness.  Madness 
is  the  only  life  possible  for  me  now  !  If  you 


TWO  VOICES  95 

had  been  husbandlike  to  me — given  me  your 
confidence  ;  but,  oh,  the  loneliness  !  Why 
did  you  do  it  ?  Have  I  ever  harmed  you  ? 
Did  I  ask  you  to  marry  me  ?  Did  you  make 
me  your  wife  because  you  hated  me 2  Then 
why  in  mercy  didn't  you  kill  me  at  the  be- 
ginning? Do  you  hate  me  so  much  that 
you  want  me  to  live?  What  is  to  be  the 
end  of  it  all  ?  " 

"Arabella,  you're  wrong.  My  motives 
are  simple,  though  there  are  reasons  why  I 
can't  discuss  them.  In  affairs  men  are  one 
another's  trustees ;  their  secrets  are  not  their 
own  to  tell.  I  have  not  practised  reticence 
for  its  own  sake.  And  you  must  admit  that 
I  have  been  more  forbearing  than  some  men 
would  have  been." 

"  Forbearing  about  what?  " 

"  Toward  you." 

"Forbearing?  What  reason.  I  don't 
understand  !  " 

"  Technically  that  is  true;  forsince  I  de- 
termined, from  the  start,  not  to  take  the  or- 
dinary course  in  the  circumstances,  I  con- 
sidered that  our  mutual  comfort  would  be 
best  consulted  by  abstaining  from  all  allu- 
sion to  it.  I  have  never  accused  you  in  all 
these  many  years,  nor  have  you  ever  con- 


96  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

fessed,  but  I  have  always  presumed  that  you 
understood  me,  as  I  did  you." 

"  Confessed  !  " 

"  You  can't  imagine  I  was  ignorant?  " 

"Why  do  you  smile  like  that?  Con- 
fessed?" 

"  Come,  it's  not  worth  while  at  so  late  a 
day.  Some  things  are  best  left  unsaid.  Our 
life  has  been  a  comedy — a  tragedy  if  you  like 
— but  don't  let  us  end  it  with  a  farce.  Be- 
sides, if  explanations  were  begun,  they  might 
go  farther  than  you  think  for.  I  have  nat- 
urally felt  at  liberty  to  deal  with  the  situa- 
tion as  I  found  it.  But  let  us  stop  where  we 
are." 

' '  No  !  Oh — if  it  were  all  some  terrible 
mistake  !  Not  terrible,  blessed,  in  spite  of 
all  the  wrong  and  ruin.  I  almost  have  a 
hope.  .  .  .  But  it  can't  be.  I'm  afraid. 
Will  you  answer  me  one  question  ?  " 

"If it  involves  no  other  person's  confi- 
dence." 

"  If  I  have  done  you  an  injustice,  I'll  lie 
down  and  kiss  your  feet.  Oh,  my  heart ! 
Ever  since  Murgatroyd  was  a  year  old, 
I  have  thought — there  was  an  instinct — I 
felt.  .  .  .  Tell  me  the  truth  !  I  have 
believed  he  was  not  our  son. ' ' 


TWO  VOICES  97 

"  Not  our  son  ?  Well,  Arabella,  I  have 
thought  so,  too.  But  what  is  your  ques- 
tion? " 

"  Why  do  you  smile?  I  ask  you.  .  .  . 
Good  God  !  " 

"  Well,  I  shall  put  an  end  to  this.  I  do 
it  reluctantly.  I  have  believed,  and  known, 
that  your  son  was  not  also  mine.  You  re- 
member he  was  an  eight  month  child.  Let 
me  finish ' ' 

"  Oh,  let  me  laugh — let  me  die — oh  ! 
Poor  fool !  All  these  years,  indeed  !  And 
you  never — your  forbearance.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

"  I  was  going  to  say  that  this  premature 
birth  did  not  disturb  me  ;  it  only  served  as 
a  minor  confirmation  of  direct  evidence. 
You  were  very  ill  at  the  time ;  there  was 
fear  of  your  life.  The  child  suffered,  too. 
I  don't  know  if  you  recollect  a  man — a 
groom — by  the  name  of  James  Mouncey? 
He  married  a  former  maid  of  yours,  Annie 
Swift — your  servant  before  your  own  mar- 
riage." 

"  Yes  !  I  dismissed  her  for — she  was  not 
an  honest  girl.  Yes;  well?" 

"  But  she  had  your  confidence  at  one  time. 
Very  likely  she  knew  more  than  you  suspect- 
ed of  your  affairs.  She  knew  of  your  acquaint- 
7 


98  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

ance  with  General  Stepyngstone.  There  is 
nothing  surprising  in  you  and  he  having  been 
mutually  attracted.  To  be  sure,  we  had  been 
betrothed  at  that  time,  but  I  am  not  so  un- 
reasonable as  to  suppose  that  you  accepted 
me  for  my " 

"I  understand;  I  took  you  for  your 
money,  and  you  me  for  my  beauty.  But 
keep  to  the  story,  please. ' ' 

' '  Your  friend,  Miss  Fenton,  who  is  Mrs. 
Stepyngstone  now,  had  you  down  to  visit  her 
at  her  villa  in  Newport,  about  a  month  be- 
fore our  wedding " 

"  Yes — ah  !  I  know — I  see  !  He  was  there 
all  the  time.  He  did  make  love  to  me  at 
first.  I  remember  it  all.  Annie  Swift  slept 
in  the  small  chamber  opening  out  of  mine. 
One  night  he  ...  but  tell  me  what  you 
found  out." 

"  As  you  say,  one  night  he  spent  in  your 
room.  Annie  saw  him  go  in.  You  dis- 
missed her  soon  after.  She  married  Moun- 
cey.  He  lost  money  betting  on  races.  She 
told  him  what  she  had  seen,  with  the  idea 
that  it  would  be  worth  money  to  me  to  know 
it,  that  I  would  pension  them  not  to  let  it  go 
further.  You  had  been  my  wife  then  about 
six  months." 


TWO  VOICES  99 

"  Poor  husband  !  Yes.  And  you  believed 
her  unsupported  word  ?  ' ' 

"No;  I  did  not  accept  unsupported  evi- 
dence." 

"  Where  could  you  get  confirmation  ?  " 

"  There  was  only  one  possible  source. 
Your  friend  Miss  Fenton  confirmed  it." 

"  Mary  Fenton  confirmed  it  ?  You  asked 
her  if  it  was  true  that  I  had  .  .  .  and 
she  said  it  was  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  are  speaking  louder  than 
you  are  perhaps  aware  of,  Arabella.  There 
is  no  way  out  of  it,  you  see.  I  wish  you  had 
taken  my  hint  at  first.  Silence  has  been  my 
way  from  the  first,  and  it  is  the  best." 

"  Give  me  time  to  breathe  and  think  ! 
Mary  Fenton  dared  to  tell  you  that !  Your 
silence  served  her  well,  but  it  ruined  us  !  It 
has  served  her  twenty  years,  but  I  will  have 
my  turn  now  !  You  shall  hear  what  she  will 
say  when  I  ask  her  the  question  that  you 
asked  her !  Oh,  if  you  and  I  were  young 
again  !  What  a  waste  it  has  been,  a  tragic, 
useless  waste !  And  yet  I'm  happier  than  at 
any  time  since  my  child  was  born.  And  so 
shall  you  be  !  I  don't  blame  you  ;  I  forgive 
you  ;  it  is  no  wonder  you  believed.  But  it 
was  false  !  How  could  I  ever  do  such  a  wick- 


loo  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

edness  ?  I  loved  you  !  When  he  tried  to 
make  love  to  me  I  let  him  know  what  my 
feeling  was,  both  toward  you  and  him  !  He 
never  presumed  again.  But  Mary  was  in- 
fatuated with  him,  and  she  was  a  rich  match 
for  a  poor  half-pay  officer.  When  I  warned 
him  away  he  turned  to  her,  partly  in  pique, 
maybe,  and  partly  for  the  reasons  of  a  man 
of  the  world,  who  has  social  position,  but  no 
money.  Mary  was  infatuated ;  she  had  no 
prudence.  I  have  sacredly  kept  her  secret 
all  these  years ;  I  never  dreamed  of  telling 
it.  And  she  took  advantage  of  it  to  destroy 
all  the  light  of  my  life.  There  is  no  punish- 
ment severe  enough  for  such  treachery.  But 
if  you  and  I  understand  each  other,  even  at 
this  long  last,  I  do  not  care  for  revenge.  She 
shall  tell  you  the  truth  in  my  presence,  but 
that  is  all." 

"  You  seem  to  have  settled  something  in 
your  own  mind,  Arabella ;  but  I  confess  I 
have  no  notion  what  you  mean." 

"  It's  terribly  simple.  She  accused  me  to 
shield  herself." 

"  To  shield  herself  from  what?  " 

"  Her  little  brother,  a  boy  of  seven,  slept 
in  her  room  with  her.  There  was  a  boat 
moored  at  the  little  private  pier  in  front  of 


TWO  VOICES  101 

the  villa.  I  was  fond  of  sailing  in  those 
days,  and  could  manage  a  boat.  I  had  al- 
ways wanted  to  take  a  moonlight  sail,  and 
on  this  night  I  sat  up  late  looking  at  the 
moonlight,  and  at  last  I  thought  I  would  go 
down  and  take  a  sail.  I  went  to  Mary's 
room  to  ask  her  to  go  with  me,  but  she 
would  not.  She  had  not  gone  to  bed,  and 
was  excited,  though  I  didn't  notice  it  then. 
I  went  out  alone,  very  quietly,  so  as  to 
awaken  no  one.  I  thought  I  saw  some  one 
in  the  shrubbery  as  I  went  down  to  the  pier, 
but  I  was  not  sure.  There  was  a  soft,  light 
breeze ;  I  unmoored  the  boat,  and  hoisted 
the  sail  and  sailed  out.  I  was  gone  three 
or  four  hours.  I  thought  of  you,  and  of  our 
married  life  to  come,  all  the  time  I  was  sail- 
ing, and  wished  you  had  been  in  the  boat 
with  me.  By  the  time  I  got  back  the  moon 
had  set,  and  it  was  the  dark  before  dawn. 
As  I  came  up  toward  the  house,  through  the 
shrubbery,  I  saw  a  man  appear  at  my  win- 
dow, step  out,  and  let  himself  down  from 
the  roof  of  the  veranda.  At  first  I  thought  it 
was  a  burglar,  but  as  he  reached  the  ground 
and  went  off  I  recognized  him — it  was  Step- 
yngstone.  I  had  the  key  of  the  side  door 
of  the  house,  and  I  slipped  in  and  up  to  my 


102  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

room.  I  met  Mary  just  stealing  out.  I 
made  her  go  back  in  there  with  me.  She 
went  down  on  her  knees ;  she  almost 
fainted ;  we  had  a  long  talk.  I  promised 
to  keep  her  secret.  The  next  day  I  went 
away.  I  never  thought  of  Annie  Swift — 
neither  of  us  did.  But  she  behaved  imper- 
tinently to  me  after  that,  and  I  missed  jew- 
els and  other  things,  and  I  found  she  was 
misbehaving  with  some  one — Mouncey,  I 
suppose ;  so  I  dismissed  her.  I  remember 
her  telling  me  I  would  regret  it,  but  I 
didn't  know  what  she  meant. 

"  When  you  asked  Mary  about  Annie's 
story,  she  knew  that  if  she  denied  it  so  far 
as  I  was  concerned,  the  truth  would  sooner 
or  later  come  out  about  her.  That  is  all  the 
affair,  my  husband  .  .  .  my  husband  ! 
It  comes  very  late,  but  that  is  not  my  fault. 
My  husband  ...  It  seems  as  if  I  had 
never  said  that  word  before !  After  all,  it 
isn't  too  late,  is  it?  We  are  both  alive; 
we  can  begin  to  live,  now.  Seems  to  me  I 
feel  life  running  into  my  veins  again.  Oh, 
what  a  mountain  of  misery  this  clears  away, 
and  what  a  night  of  blind  darkness !  And 
Murgatroyd  !  Poor  fellow  !  I  have  never 
treated  him  like  a  mother ;  I  suppose  it  was 


TWO  VOICES  103 

my  own  unnatural  state  that  always  made 
him  seem  in  some  way  strange  to  me.  But 
I  will  make  it  up  to  him  !  He  shall  be 
happy,  too. 

"  My  husband — you  believe  me,  don't 
you?  You  shall  hear  it  from  Mary  herself 
to-morrow — no  !  to-day.  She  shall  come 
here  to-day  and  tell  you  .  .  .  Yes,  my 
husband,  look  at  me !  Come  close  and 
look  me  straight  in  the  eyes  with  all  your 
might !  There  is  nothing  but  truth  to  see, 
so  far  down  as  you  can  go.  No — look  !  " 

"I  do  believe  you.  I  wish  that  were 
all." 

"What   else?     Oh,    my   heart!— don't 

"No,  no — give  me  time.  It  concerns 
myself — what  else  there  is.  But,  speaking 
of  truth,  we  must  recognize  one  truth — that 
no  great  wrong,  like  this,  can  ever  be 
righted.  You  and  I  can  never  return  in 
feeling  or  in  character,  any  more  than  in 
years,  to  what  we  were  when  we  were  lovers. 
If  we  have  travelled  for  a  score  of  years  on 
wrong  roads,  and  away  from  each  other,  we 
can't  meet  in  a  moment  now.  We  are  not  the 
same  beings  that  we  should  have  been.  We 
can  never  become  so,  however  we  might  de- 


104  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

sire  it.  We  are  total  strangers  to  each  other. 
The  most  we  can  do  would  be  to  begin  to 
make  each  other's  acquaintance.  So  much 
I  can  see  plainly ;  though  what  you  have 
said  roots  up  and  overturns  almost  every- 
thing that  I  had  thought  certain  and  un- 
changeable. ' ' 

"  You  mean  you  can  never  love  me  ?  Ah, 
Mary  Fenton  !  ' ' 

"  I  don't  know  you.  And  I  can't  learn 
to  know  you  so  easily  as  if  we  were  ordina- 
ry strangers,  because  I've  been  all  this  time 
believing  you  to  be  quite  another  person 
than  you  are.  So,  you  see,  it  is  too  soon 
to  bring  up  the  question  of  love,  and  we  are 
getting  old  !  Don't  think  me  discourteous. 
I  always  try  to  see  things  as  they  are.  Well, 
I  must  admit  I  have  not  succeeded  well  in 
the  attempt,  so  far — but  you  understand  my 
meaning. 

"  My  mind  has  been  locked  up  so  long 
that  I  find  difficulty  in  opening  it.  No  one 
has  seen  into  it,  since  you  looked  your  last 
before  our  marriage.  I  never  meant  anyone 
should  again.  To  change  one's  habit  is  like 
bending  back  a  tree  that  has  grown  and 
hardened  awry.  Perhaps  as  much  will  be 
destroyed  as  gained.  But  some  things  must 


TWO  VOICES  105 

be  said.  Excuse  me  if  I  speak  in  a  business 
tone  and  phraseology.  It  is  only  that  I 
have  used  them  so  long  that  I  have  no  other 
at  command.  I  don't  intend  any  disrespect 
or  insensibility. 

"  I  had  meant  to  make  my  wife  the  end 
and  occupation  of  my  life,  but  when  circum- 
stances altered,  I  looked  about  for  something 
else  to  interest  me.  I  could  not  feel  an  in- 
terest in  any  other  woman — there's  nothing 
of  that  in  what  I  have  to  tell.  Of  course, 
the  child  that  was  born — under  the  persua- 
sion I  was — I  didn'  t  feel  drawn  to  him.  It's 
er — painful  to  think  that  he  was  really  our 
own  child,  after  all.  I  never  knew  till  now 
that  I  lost  my  only  son  when  he  died." 
"  It  was  true,  then  ?  Oh,  it  was  true  !  " 
''Yes;  but  kindly  let  me  go  on  without 
interruption  ;  at  best,  as  I  said,  it  isn't  easy. 
You  were  delirious  with  fever  during  your 
confinement,  and  a  nurse  was  got  for  the 
child,  a  decent  seeming  woman  of  the  lower 
class  ;  she  said  her  husband  was  on  the  rail- 
road, and  was  killed  a  month  or  two  before 
the  birth  of  her  own  child.  This  turned 
out  to  be  false ;  the  child  was  born  out  of 
wedlock,  and  the  father  was  living.  But 
that  would  not  have  mattered — such  false- 


io6  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

hoods  are  common  under  the  circumstances, 
and  do  no  harm — but  for  a  step  of  my  own. 
"You — er — our  child  died  in  the  second 
month.  The  nature  of  your  illness,  not  to 
speak  of  other  reasons,  made  it  impossible 
there  could  ever  be  another.  But  I  wanted 
an  heir,  and  I  thought  it  better  he  should 
be  brought  up  in  the  family  as  my  son,  than 
to  leave  my  property  to  be  divided  among 
relatives — persons  we  have  never  recognized 
— or  to  openly  adopt  anyone  later  in  life.  I 
had  seen  the  nurse's  baby — a  fine-looking, 
healthy  child.  You  can  understand  that, 
believing  what  I  did,  I  thought  I  might  be- 
come fonder  of  the  boy,  after  he  had  grown 
up  and  been  educated  under  my  eye,  than  I 
could  have  hoped  to  be  of  the  child  who 
died.  So  I  decided  to  buy  him  of  his 
mother,  taking  measures,  of  course,  that 
they  should  be  permanently  separated  at 
once.  I  sent  her  to  Australia,  with  an  an- 
nuity, so  long  as  she  stayed  there.  I  pro- 
vided against  blackmail  by  causing  her  to 
sign  a  confession  of  infanticide — a  pure  fic- 
tion, of  course — but  by  means  of  which  it 
would  have  been  possible  to  procure  her 
conviction,  had  she  broken  our  contract  and 
reappeared  in  this  country.  I  entirely  over- 


TWO  VOICES  107 

looked  the  contingency  that  actually  oc- 
curred. She  got  word,  after  starting  on  her 
journey,  to  the  father  of  her  child ;  he  joined 
her  at  Rio,  where  the  vessel  stopped ;  mar- 
ried her  there,  and,  as  I  have  suspected, 
caused  her  death,  after  possessing  himself  of 
the  facts  of  the  case.  At  all  events,  I  re- 
ceived a  communication  from  him  within  a 
year,  claiming  the  paternity  of  the  child, 
and  making  the  usual  threats.  It  was  then 
too  late  for  me  to  disown  the  boy  as  my  son, 
and  I  made  terms  with  the  man.  But  he 
has  been  an  annoyance  to  me  ever  since. 
And  there  have  been  other  complications — 
but  I  need  not  enter  on  those  now. 

"  I  have  always  felt  a  kindness  for  Murga- 
troyd,  and,  of  late  years,  a  sincere  compas- 
sion for  him  also.  You  know  him,  I  sup- 
pose, as  well  as  I  do ;  he  has  not  turned  out 
what  I  hoped  to  make  him ;  he  is  quite  in- 
compatible with  the  rank  of  life  into  which 
I  brought  him.  But  he  is  a  good,  genuine, 
natural  creature,  and  there's  no  service  I 
would  not  gladly  do  him.  The  question  is, 
what  to  do  ?  Of  course  his  real  father  can- 
not deprive  him  of  his  inheritance ;  were  I 
to  die  to-morrow,  that  would  still  be  his  by 
the  terms  of  my  will.  But  he  does  not  care 


io8  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

for  the  things  which  the  inheritance  puts  in 
his  power.  Certainly,  he  might  turn  the 
holdings  into  cash,  and  make  ducks  and 
drakes  of  it  in  any  way  that  pleased  him ; 
but  he  is  a  very  conscientious  boy,  and  anx- 
ious to  do  what  he  thinks  I  will  approve,  at 
the  same  time  that  he  is  never  at  ease  or 
happy  in  so  doing.  The  problem  has  been 
constantly  before  me  for  some  time  past.  In 
spite  of  his  good  will,  the  poor  boy  is  men- 
tally  incapable  of  carrying  on — er — certain 
affairs  which  have  occupied  me.  But  he  is 
now  of  age,  and  some  action  must  be  taken. 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  a  step  which  I  have 
arranged  to  take  this  very  day.  Briefly  it  is 
this  :  To  tell  him  the  facts  about  his  parent- 
age, then  give  him  his  choice — either  to 
keep  the  secret,  or  to  publish  it.  He  may 
either  continue  the  artificial  life  he  has  here- 
tofore led,  or  enter  openly  and  avowedly 
into  the  rank  and  companionship  that  he 
was  born  to.  In  the  former  case,  he  will 
marry  Miss  Sharingbourne,  and  will  be  bound 
in  honor  to  maintain  the  mask  of  patrician- 
hood  all  his  life  long ;  otherwise — well,  you 
comprehend  the  alternative.  Should  he 
choose  the  latter,  as  I  expect  he  will,  I  shall 
arrange  that  he  always  receives  an  adequate 


TWO  VOICES  109 

support — adequate  to  that  station  in  life — so 
settled  on  him  that  rascals  could  not  rob 
him  of  it,  nor  he  be  deprived  of  it  by  impru- 
dences of  his  own.  His  appearing  in  his 
true  colors  would  also  put  an  end  to  the 
blackmailing  annoyance.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  social  consequences  to  me — to  us 
— would  be  so  unpleasant  that — You  wish  to 
say  something  ?  ' ' 

"  What  can  I  say?  All  this  seems  so  piti- 
able, and  yet  it's  like  the  rattling  of  dead 
bones  !  There  has  been  deception,  and  it 
has  brought  its  consequences,  and  they  have 
to  be  met  somehow.  Seems  to  me  no  open 
humiliation  could  be  worse  than  to  go  on 
deceiving.  I've  felt  deception  in  the  air  I 
breathe  so  long  that  now  that  this  first  stir 
of  truth  has  come  I  don't  think  I  have  cour- 
age, patience,  to  argue  whether  it  should 
continue.  My  poor  mother  brought  me  up 
to  regard  worldly  things,  but  my  life  (if  it 
can  be  called  a  life)  has  taught  me  that  there's 
nothing  real  and  worth  having  but  love  and 
truth.  I'm  glad,  I  suppose,  that  my  instinct 
about  Murgatroyd  was  right ;  I've  always 
thought  of  our  own  baby  as  being  happy  in 
Heaven,  and  I'm  glad  that  hateful  fear  is 
gone  that — forgive  me  for  it ;  I  was  groping 


no  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

in  darkness,  and  everything  seemed  evil — I 
believed  he  must  have  the  right  to  call  you 
father.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  sympathize  with 
your  concern  about  him,  but  I  can  find  noth- 
ing in  my  heart  but  one  want — I  want  my 
husband  !  You  say  that  we  are  strangers 
and  old,  but  isn't  it  putting  away  love  that 
has  made  us  so  ?  Isn't  love  the  very  life  and 
self  of  a  man  and  woman  ?  How  can  it  be 
strange  ?  What  has  it  to  do  with  age  ?  If 
we  were  to  lift  ourselves  up  and  say,  '  We 
will  be  our  own  selves !  '  would  it  not  all 
come  rushing  back  to  us?  Then  I  could 
think  of  other  things,  for  I  should  be  human 
again;  I  cannot  say  now.  Can't  you  feel 
what  I'm  trying  to  say?  Can't  you  trust 
it  ?  Oh,  my  husband  ! ' ' 

"  I  think  perhaps  you're  right,  Arabella; 
probably  you  are  right.  But  I  find  a  defi- 
ciency in  myself.  I  can  accept  your  view  as 
an  abstract  proposition,  but  I  can't — I  don't 
seem  able  as  yet  to  adopt  it  in  feeling — to 
live  it.  You  spoke  of  being,  so  to  say,  dead 
— of  death  in  life;  and  now  you  feel  the 
power  to  renew  life  under  certain  conditions. 
I  fancy  it's  rather  the  other  way  about  with 
me.  I've  kept  up  a  life  in  outward  things, 
but  I've  suffered  death  inwardly,  and  that's 


TWO  VOICES  in 

the  sort  of  death,  I  fear,  from  which  one 
doesn't  recover.  I  can  remember  a  time 
when  what  you  say  would  have  had  a  vital 
effect  upon  me,  but — to  be  honest  with  my- 
self and  you — I  cannot  say  I  am  moved  now 
as  I  should  have  been  then.  The  intellect 
seems  as  active  and  efficient  in  me  as  ever — 
more  so,  perhaps — but — I  am  sorry  to  dis- 
tress you,  though  I  might  envy  you  the  abil- 
ity to  shed  tears ;  but  you  must  try  to  feel 
the  indulgence  for  me  that  you  would  for  a 
cripple,  or  a  deaf  or  dumb  person.  Possibly 
I  may  improve.  I  think  if  I  had  this  affair 
of  Murgatroyd's  off  my  mind  I  could  give 
more  vigorous  attention  to  your  suggestions. 
I  feel  that  I've  done  him  an  injury — taken 
an  unwarrantable  liberty  with  him.  It  is 
certainly  foolish  to  venture  on  experiments 
of  that  kind.  But,  as  I  say,  having  nothing 
else  to  occupy  myself  with,  I  allowed  myself 
to  become  deeply  absorbed  in — er — certain 
matters,  and  very  anxious  and  ambitious  to 
leave  some  one  behind  me  who  could  take 
up  and  carry  on  what  I  had  established.  I 
certainly  brought  up  Murgatroyd  in  order  to 
satisfy  this  ambition,  and  in  so  far  you  may 
say  the  motive  was  a  selfish  one,  but  cer- 
tainly, too,  I  had  no  misgiving  but  it  would 


H2  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

be  a  happy  thing  for  him  to  be  raised  into 
our  sphere  of  life,  with  its  wealth  and  other 
advantages  instead  of  remaining  in  the  gutter 
and  tenement-house  condition  to  which  he 
was  born.  But  it  seems  I  was  mistaken ;  so 
I  want  to  put  it  right,  as  far  as  I  can,  even 
though  it  involves  my — our  personal  discom- 
fort. That  is,  if  you  agree  with  me  — as  I 
understand  you'  re  disposed  to  do.  We  might 
arrange  to  go  abroad  for  awhile ;  people's 
memories  are  short ;  only  there  are  circum- 
stances which  might  make  it  less  easy  for  me 
to  leave,  just  at  present,  than  for  you ;  but  I 
could  join  you  later,  no  doubt.  However, 
I  am  forgetting  that  this  sort  of  discussion 
wearies  you.  I  feel  strangely  weary  myself, 
though  I  could  hardly  say  of  what — I  sup- 
pose the  effort  to  adjust  myself  to  this  unex- 
pected turn  of  things.  Well,  I'm  not  so 
young  as  I  used  to  be.  Something  is  gone 
out  of  me.  Old  age  reconciles  one  to  the 
prospect  of — ending  it  all !  Especially  when 
one  has  lived  wrong,  as  I  seem  to  have  done. 
It's  queer  that  we  Whiterduces  should  be 
coming  to  an  end  in  this  way  !  Well,  we 
must  end  somehow,  and  what  a  struggle  and 
pain  it  is  to  keep  a-going,  after  all.  I've 
thought,  now  and  then,  that  perhaps  I  was  a 


TWO  VOICES  113 

bit  insane  on  the  subject  of  the  Whiterduces ; 
perhaps  my  ancestors  were,  too  !  Plenty  of 
enemies,  plenty  of  servants  and  acquaint- 
ances. I  don't  know  about  friends!  It's 
queer.  I  believe  I  should  begin  to  envy 
poor  Murgatroyd  if  I  went  on  !  Don' t  mind 
me,  Arabella;  I'm  getting  senile.  I'll  be 
better  to-morrow.  I  must  be  off  now.  I 
have  some  papers  to  look  over  at  the  office, 
and  afterward,  my  appointment  with  Murga- 
troyd. Excuse  me  for  detaining  you  so 
long." 

"  I  want  you  to  do  one  thing  for  me  be- 
fore you  go. " 

"  Certainly  !  Don't  feel  shy,  or  agitated, 
about  asking  me  to  do  anything  for  you. 
What  is  it?" 

"You  haven't  done  this  for  twenty-one 
years. ' ' 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  husband  !  Take  my  hands  in 
yours — look  at  me — I  am  the  girl  you  loved 
and  married — I  loved  you — I  love  you  now 
— we  are  husband  and  wife  !  Think  of  it — 
feel  it — feel  it !  Hold  my  hands  firm — 
don't  loose  them  !  There  is  no  comfort  or 
rest  but  love  ;  if  you  will  trust  in  it,  it  will 
come.  Even  to  speak  its  name  hopefully 


114  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

will  help.  Do  not  let  yourself  be  chilled 
and  doubtful ;  believe,  and  you  will  feel 
something  kindle  in  you.  Look  at  me — 
speak  to  me  !  Say,  '  My  wife  !  '  Kiss 
me!  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  wife — you  are  my  wife. 
Ah  !  I  did  not  think  I  could  kiss  a 
woman.  I  must  not  lose  myself — if  this  is 
myself — it's  so  faint.  .  .  .  You  are 
stronger  than  I.  Is  that  your  heart,  moving 
so?  Don't  unman  me.  It  must  be  gradual. 
I'm  confused.  I  don't  know  myself.  My 
wife!  " 

"  You  shall  know  yourself  in  me." 


CHAPTER  VII 


The  morning  of  the  i4th  of  November  was 
crisp  and  fine ;  a  bright,  clear  sunshine,  a 
light,  pure  breeze,  cold  enough  to  call  color 
to  the  faces  of  pedestrians  ;  and  whispering 
to  them,  perhaps,  that  the  days  of  foot-ball 
were  come,  and  that  of  roast  turkey  and 
pumpkin-pie  was  not  far  away.  They  looked 
cheerful,  at  all  events,  as  they  hastened 
along  the  sidewalks,  with  heads  up  and 
hands  in  overcoat  pockets.  The  clear,  blue 
sky  overhead  led  one  to  believe  that  there 
could  be  nothing  hopelessly  unclean  in  the 
earth  it  overarched.  Hope  was  in  the  air. 

Murgatroyd,  after  his  day  of  honors,  pains, 
and  compensations,  had  slept  sound,  and  also 
late,  as  a  young  man  has  a  right  to  do  who 
can  win  oyster  wagers — who  has  no  burden 
on  his  conscience,  and  none  that  he  cannot 
digest  on  his  stomach.  He  awoke  —  as 
healthy  young  folks  who  have  slept  well  do 


n6  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

— all  at  once,  and  at  peace  with  the  world. 
He  jumped  up  and  went  over  to  the  dressing- 
table  to  look  at  his  watch ;  but  he  had  for- 
gotten to  wind  it  over-night,  and  it  stood  at 
ten  minutes  to  five.  So  he  glanced  out  of 
the  window,  took  an  observation  by  the  sun, 
and  judged  it  could  not  be  far  from  ten 
o'clock. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  he  was  down-stairs 
in  the  breakfast-room,  two  hours  late.  But 
he  knew  that  old  Mrs.  Ramage  was  his  true 
ally,  and  that  Sally  Wintle  would  not  fail 
him ;  and,  indeed,  the  latter  entered  just  as 
his  hand  was  on  the  bell,  and  said  :  "Oh, 
Master  Murgatroyd,  ain't  you  late  !  Well,  I 
don't  suppose  you  expect  any  breakfast  this 
morning,  I  declare  !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  Sally,  be  spry,  there's  a  peach  !  I've 
got  to  meet  father  down  town  right  off,  and 
I'm  as  hungry  as  Old  Boots.  I  can  smell 
steak  and  omelette — hurry  now,  and  I'll 
give  you  a  kiss  !  ' ' 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Murgatroyd  ! — and  you  a 
grown-up  man,  and  married,  or  as  good  as  ! 
Yes,  I  should  think  you'd  blush  !  " 

"Oh,  well Oh,  Sally,  do  hurry, 

and  I'll  never  say  you're  a  pretty  girl  again, 
no  matter  how  much  I  think  so  !  " 


SILENCE  1 1 7 

' '  Well,  sakes  alive,  I  never  see  such  a 
man." 

However,  the  steak  and  omelette  ap- 
peared, and  disappeared  almost  as  quickly. 
Sally  and  Murgatroyd  parted  good  friends. 
As  he  plunged  out  into  the  hall  to  get  his 
hat  Mrs.  Whiterduce  came  down-stairs. 

"  Oh,  good-morning,  ma'am.  I  got  late. 
I've  got  to  meet  father.  Good-by." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  dear  !  "  Murgatroyd 
stopped  short ;  she  had  not  spoken  to  him  in 
that  tone,  nor  called  him  "  dear,"  since  he 
could  remember.  He  stared  at  her.  She 
did  not  look  the  same  as  usual ;  there  was  an 
expression  in  her  eyes,  and  about  her  mouth 
— a  tender,  soft,  shining  expression — that 
gave  him  a  sudden  ache  in  the  back  of  his 
throat.  It  was  a  very  different  feeling  from 
the  one  he  had  had  the  night  before,  when 
he  glanced  round  the  table  for  some  sympa- 
thetic face,  and  had  seen  hers,  still  and  cold 
and  remote  —  a  mother  without  love  or 
motherliness. 

"Why,  mother!  "  he  said,  in  a  husky 
voice. 

"  Yes,  dear,  call  me  mother.  You  shall 
feel  you  have  a  mother  while  I  live.  A 
real,  true,  loving  mother !  ' '  She  came 


n8  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

gently  up  to  him,  put  her  delicate  hands  on 
his  shoulders,  drew  down  his  head,  and 
kissed  him. 

"  Why,  mother  !  "  he  said  again,  with  a 
gulp  and  a  whimper  this  time.  "  Why  do 
you What  is  it  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  softly  and  tenderly. 

"You're  so  beautiful  and  lovely,"  qua- 
vered he.  "I  never  knew  it  before.  You 
make  me  feel  so  good ' ' 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear,  and  help  me 
to  make  you  always  good  and  happy.  Now, 
I'll  give  you  a  message.  Tell  papa,  with  my 
dearest  love — mind  !  tell  him  not  to  stay 
away  longer  than  he  can  help ;  I  want  him, 
and  tell  him  not  to  forget  what  I  told  him 
before  he  went  away.  Don't  forget  about 
my  love ;  and  tell  him  I'm  very  happy — 
happier  than  I  ever  was — and  that  I'm  sure 
we  shall  be  always  happier  and  happier. 
Can  you  remember  all  that  ?  It  seems  a 
good  deal  to  remember,  doesn't  it?  and  yet 
it  is  a  simple  thing,  in  itself." 

"I'll  remember  it ;  I'll  never  forget  it,  no 
fear  of  that  !  I  couldn't  if  I  tried.  It's  the 
best  thing  I  ever  heard,  and  guess  father'll 
think  so  too.  Is  this  you,  really  ?  You  dear 
mother.  Well,  I — well,  good-by  !  " 


SILENCE  119 

If  the  morning  was  fine  before,  it  was  now 
resplendent.  But  Murgatroyd,  as  he  trudged 
along  the  handsome  street,  felt  as  if  he  were 
poising  some  valuable  object  on  his  head, 
which,  should  he  make  a  wrong  movement, 
would  fall  and  be  broken.  This  was  a 
strange  event.  What  did  it  mean  ?  He 
walked,  with  his  eyes  fixed,  in  an  abstraction. 
He  beheld  always  that  picture  of  his  mother, 
his  newly  discovered,  tenderly  smiling  moth- 
er, pale,  gentle,  stately,  with  dark,  delicate 
brows  and  softly  shining  eyes,  dressed  in 
some  graceful,  simple  morning  robe,  like  a 
Greek,  but  no  longer  like  a  statue.  There 
were  silver  touches  on  the  ripple  of  her  dark 
hair.  She  had  told  him  to  call  her  "  moth- 
er." Murgatroyd  had  never  regarded  the 
parental  relation  as  implying  anything  pleas- 
urable to  the  son.  If  the  latter  got  through 
the  day  without  being  made  to  feel  that  he 
had  made  a  beast  or  an  ass  of  himself,  it  was 
much.  This  attitude  had  become  matter  of 
course  to  him.  He  supposed  it  to  be  normal 
in  all  families,  and  that  other  boys,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  enjoyed  the  society  of  their 
Mrs.  Ramages  the  housekeeper  and  their 
Oliver  Crookets  the  groom  better  than  that 
of  their  father  and  mother.  He  had  some- 


120  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

times  wondered  why  his  parents  had  seemed 
to  be  of  an  altogether  different  order  of  cre- 
ation from  himself — different  in  soul  and 
body — for  he  had  reasoned  that  this  could 
hardly  be  the  case  in  all  families.  But  so 
far  as  the  distant  and  critical  attitude  was 
concerned,  that  was  no  doubt,  he  thought, 
natural  and  inevitable ;  parents  who  did  not 
exhibit  it  were  to  be  regarded  with  suspicion. 
Well,  then,  what  was  to  be  thought  of  this 
wonderful  transfiguration  of  his  mother  ?  If 
she  had  been  his  mother  before  what  was 
she  now?  And  if  only  now  what  had  she 
been  hitherto?  Struggling  with  this  prob- 
lem, he  was  reaching  the  conclusion  that  she 
had  been  transfigured  out  of  a  mother,  but 
into  something  far  more  delightful,  when  his 
name,  spoken  in  a  clear,  cool  voice,  brought 
him  abruptly  back  to  the  concrete,  and  to 
the  fact  that  Isabella  Sharingbourne  was  be- 
fore him,  with  Devereux  Scaramanga  by 
her  side. 

They  smiled  upon  him  with  patrician 
serenity  ;  evidently  there  had  been  no  trans- 
figuration in  their  case.  ','  Ah,  I  was  ex- 
pecting you,"  said  Scaramanga;  "I  was 
snatching  a  hasty  joy  while  opportunity 
served.  You  have  not  indulged  me  with  your 


SILENCE  121 

property  over  long,  but  I  resign  her  to  you 
with  thanks  for  the  shortest  favors."  And 
he  lifted  his  hat  with  ironic  courtesy. 

"  I  don't  think  Mr.  Whiterduce  was  look- 
ing forme — or  thinking  of  me,"  said  Isabel- 
la, looking  her  betrothed  over  composedly. 

"  I  wasn't ;  I'd  no  idea  you'd  be  around  at 
this  time,  "  returned  the  guileless  youth. 
"  I'm  going  to  meet  my  father  down  at  his 
office;  I  guess  I'm  late.  Well,  good-by." 

Scaramanga  glanced  at  Isabella,  arching 
his  black  eyebrows  with  demure  amusement ; 
she  smiled,  keeping  her  clear  eyes  on  Mur- 
gatroyd.  "  It's  very  nice  of  you,"  she  said. 
"  Good-by." 

Murgatroyd  hurried  along,  feeling  that 
perhaps  he  had  not  done  the  right  thing,  but 
glad  to  get  away.  Etiquette  was  still  an 
obscure  subject  to  him.  He  would  not  have 
had  the  audacity  to  show  jealousy  toward 
Isabella — his  "property,"  indeed!  He 
could  imagine  being  jealous  about  other  girls, 
such  as  Letitia,  or  Sally ;  but  if  ever  a  girl 
was  her  own  proprietor — able  to  take  care  of 
herself  better  than  anyone  could  do  it  for 
her — the  future  Mrs.  Whiterduce  was  that 
young  lady.  He  dismissed  the  subject  from 
his  mind. 


122  A  TOOL  OF  NATURE 

His  way  led  him  past  the  St.  Quentin 
Club ;  before  he  was  aware  of  it  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  a  little  knot  of  gentlemen  who 
were  going  slowly  in  the  same  direction. 
There  were  Verinder  Vyse,  Stukely  Poyntell, 
Aubert  Frewin,  and  one  or  two  more. 

"  Hullo,  Murgatroyd,"  said  Frewin,  turn- 
ing upon  him  that  ever  scrutinizing  and  yet 
preoccupied  gaze  of  his,  which  sought  what 
was  artistically  available  in  nature,  and  dis- 
carded the  rest ;  "  I've  just  got  a  subject 
for  a  picture — '  The  Transfiguration  of  Cali- 
ban ;  '  will  you  give  me  an  order  for  it  ?  " 

"  Keep  clear  of  the  clutches  of  poor  ar- 
tists— poor  in  both  senses,  Whiterduce," 
said  Vyse.  "  We  must  call  you  Whiterduce 
now.  But  if  you  want  to  encourage  art,  re- 
gard the  poet  and  romancer.  Establish  an 
American  academy  with  a  fortune  every 
year  for  the  best  work  of  pure  imagination, 
'  The  Whiterduce  Prize.'  " 

"And  appoint  me  to  pass  judgment  on 
the  work  of  the  competitors,"  said  Poyntell. 
"I'll  protect  you  against  impostors  !  " 

"  Come  inside  :  we're  going  to  have  a 
cocktail,"  said  Vyse.  "  'Tis  not  so  sweet 
as  woman's  lip,  but  oh,  'tis  more  sincere  !  " 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  but  I  can't,"  replied 


SILENCE  123 

Murgatroyd.  "  I've  got  to  meet  my  father 
at  his  office,  and  I  guess  I'm  a  little  late. 
Good-by  ! 

"  They  seem  always  to  be  making  fun  of 
everything,"  he  thought  as  he  trudged  on. 
"  Not  the  way  Horace  and  Polydore  and 
that  sort  of  fellows  do ;  but  so  as  to  make 
you  feel  uncomfortable.  It  makes  you  laugh, 
but  it  doesn't  make  you  feel  good.  I  wonder 
if  I  shall  ever  get  the  hang  of  it !  I  guess 
not ;  I  can't  think  of  the  things  to  say,  and 
I  wouldn't  like  to  say  'em,  anyway." 

He  turned  out  of  the  Street  of  Fashion 
and  approached  the  business  parts  of  the 
city.  Here  was  the  tall  marble  building  of 
the  Constitution  newspaper,  and  on  its  steps, 
with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  and  his 
chin  on  his  breast,  the  great  figure  of  the 
editor,  Blackmer  Risdon,  listening  to  Judge 
Hemynge,  who  was  talking  with  gesture  and 
emphasis.  The  big  eyes  of  the  man  of  news- 
papers, rolling  slowly  under  his  deep  brows, 
fell  upon  Murgatroyd  as  he  drew  near,  and 
he  put  out  an  arm,  like  a  railroad  stoppage 
signal.  The  Judge  turned  brusquely. 

"  Murgatroyd,"  boomed  the  editor,  "  we 
were  speaking  of  an  angel,  and  along  comes 
a  cherub — at  least,  I  presume  cherubs  are 


124  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

angels'  children — we'll  ask  Agabag  about 
that.  Do  you  know  if  your  father  thinks  of 
coming  down  town  to-day  ?  ' ' 

"  He's  down  already — at  his  office  ;  I  was 
just  going  there  to  meet  him." 

The  Judge  tapped  impressively  with  a 
forefinger  on  the  left  breast  of  the  young 
man's  coat,  as  if  to  determine  whether  he 
were  hollow  or  stuffed  with  sawdust.  "  My 
boy,"  he  said,  peering  at  him  with  his  com- 
edy scowl,  "  can  you  carry  a  message  to 
him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  rumbled  Blackmer,  in  a 
half  aside.  "Eh? — I  don't  know.  What 
do  you  think?  " 

"  Hum  !  that's  so  ;  may  be  you're  right. 
Besides,  I'm  going  that  way  myself  present- 
ly. Yes,  my  boy,"  he  said,  ceasing  his 
sounding  experiment,  and  patting  him  on  his 
elbow,  with  his  head  aslant,  "  yes — well — 
you're  pretty  stout,  ain't  you?  All  you 
young  chaps  are  gymnasts  nowadays.  Could 
knock  out  Risdon  in  one  round,  I  expect — 
what? — in  one  round." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  he  might,  now ;  they 
teach  'em  boxing  tricks ;  I  get  illustrated 
articles  for  the  paper.  But  I  could  have 
thrown  him  when  I  was  younger- — yes,  sir  ! 


SILENCE  125 

When  I  was  logging  up  in  Maine,  along  in 
the  fifties,  I  wrastled  every  man  there,  and 
there  wasn't  one  of  'em  could  down  me. 
But  I've  been  thrown  since,  now  and  again," 
he  added,  shaking  his  shoulders  with  a  cav- 
ernous chuckle. 

"  I  guess  I'm  a  little  late — I'll  have  to 
go,"  said  Murgatroyd,  repeating  once  more 
the  burden  of  his  song. 

" Go  along,  my  boy;  just  tell  your  father 
I'll  look  in  on  him  before  noon ;  say  I  don't 
want  to  miss  him  !  Ta  ta  !  In  one  round — 
what?" 

"Step  up  stairs,"  said  the  editor,  taking 
him  by  the  arm.  "  Let's  have  a  squint  at  it 
sitting  down  ;  there  may  be  nothing  in  it 
after  all. ' ' 

Murgatroyd  turned  into  another  street,  in 
which  were  still  standing  some  of  the  older 
buildings  of  the  city  built  when  twenty-story 
Towers  of  Babylon  were  unknown.  There 
were  signs  of  age  everywhere  ;  the  sidewalks 
were  uneven  and  the  pavement  of  the  narrow 
street  had  a  wavy  surface,  like  an  estuary 
turned  into  cobblestones.  It  was  a  respect- 
able place,  however  ;  the  buildings  were  all 
occupied  as  offices,  mostly  of  lawyers  and 
real-estate  agents  ;  names  were  legible  on 


126  A  TOOL  OF  NATURE 

the  small  brass  plates  which  had  been  known 
in  the  commercial  directories  for  genera- 
tions. It  was  a  quiet  neighborhood,  the 
main  lines  of  traffic  were  elsewhere,  and 
when  a  vehicle  found  it  necessary  to  thread 
this  venerable  lane,  it  proceeded  at  a  walk, 
steering  carefully  from  the  crest  of  one  stony 
undulation  to  another.  On  one  side,  oppo- 
site the  office  buildings,  was  an  old  church 
and  churchyard,  clustered  with  dingy  monu- 
ments and  gravestones,  and  with  stunted 
tress  growing  here  and  there,  now  leafless 
and  forlorn. 

To  come  into  this  region  was  like  passing 
from  the  rattle  and  sparkle  of  owe  Jin  de  siecle 
into  the  old-fashioned  thirties  and  forties  of 
the  century.  You  involuntarily  slackened 
your  pace  and  drew  less  hurried  breath. 

The  greater  number  of  these  buildings  had 
been  owned  by  the  Whiter duces  time  out  of 
mind,  and  it  was  in  one  of  them  that  our 
own  Pynchepole  had  his  office.  For  al- 
though he  had  no  business,  technically 
speaking,  an  "office"  had  been  a  family 
appurtenance  always,  and  it  was,  of  course, 
a  necessity  for  persons  with  so  vast  an  estate. 
Appointments  with  lawyers,  agents,  and  men 
of  business  of  all  kinds  were  held  here; 


SILENCE  127 

there  was  a  safe  vault,  in  which  securities 
representing  nobody  knew  how  much  and 
other  valuable  or  curious  documents  were 
kept ;  and  no  doubt  the  Whiterduces  used 
to  come  here  sometimes  simply  for  the  sake 
of  being  alone  and  inaccessible  by  the  world 
in  which  they  held  such  considerable  stakes. 
No  one  would  disturb  them  here,  because 
they  were  never  supposed  to  be  here  except 
by  special  appointment ;  and  even  if  some 
chance  visitor  were  to  knock  at  the  door  it 
was  only  necessary  to  keep  silent  and  he 
would  soon  take  himself  off. 

The  Whiterduce  office  occupied  the  ground 
floor  of  the  building.  There  were  several 
rooms,  opening  into  one  another  and  look- 
ing out  at  the  back  on  a  small  court-yard 
with  a  high  brick  wall.  Adjoining  this  yard 
was  another,  belonging  to  a  building  on  the 
next  street.  The  rooms  were  soberly  but 
solidly  furnished,  and  were  kept  in  order  by 
a  man  and  his  wife,  the  latter  dusting  them 
every  morning  and  the  former  walking 
through  them  every  night  to  see  that  every- 
thing was  as  it  should  be.  Nothing  had 
ever  been  otherwise  than  it  should  be  during 
the  twenty  years  of  their  incumbency,  and 
there  was  no  tradition  that  anything  had 


128  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

ever  been,  from  the  beginning.  The  Whit- 
erduces  and  all  appertaining  to  them  were 
invariably  all  right. 

As  Murgatroyd  mounted  the  worn  stone 
steps  he  said  to  himself :  "I  wonder  if 
father '11  seem  as  different  this  morning  as 
mother  did  !  If  I  could  only  get  over  being 
scared  of  him  I  should  think  we  might  get 
on  first  rate. ' ' 

He  stepped  into  the  narrow  hallway  and 
knocked  on  the  door — the  first  door  to  the 
right.  He  heard  no  answer,  but  he  turned 
the  latch  and  the  door  opened.  "  It's  me," 
he  said  as  he  went  in. 

He  shut  the  door  behind  him.  As  he  did 
so  he  thought  he  heard  a  window  at  the  back 
of  the  building  shut  down  with  an  echoing 
slam.  Supposing  that  Mr.  Whiterduce  must 
be  in  the  back  room,  he  crossed  the  small 
antechamber  which  he  had  entered  and 
passed  through  the  glazed  partition  into  the 
room  next  to  it.  Here  was  a  large  desk 
table,  and  Murgatroyd,  glancing  beneath  it, 
saw  his  father's  feet  and  the  lower  part  of  his 
legs  as  he  sat  in  the  chair  at  the  other  side. 
The  upper  structure  of  the  desk  hid  his 
father's  head  and  shoulders  from  sight. 

"I  guess  I'm  a  little  late,"  said  Murga- 


SILENCE  129 

troyd,  and  he  came  round  and  looked  down 
upon  the  other  ;  "I  overslept " 

He  stopped.  Mr.  Whiterduce  sat  with 
his  head  and  body  bent  forward,  and  his 
arms  hanging  down — an  extraordinary  post- 
ure. His  face  was  pressed  down  on  a  litter 
of  papers  on  the  desk.  He  had  fainted. 

After  the  moment's  shock  was  over,  Mur- 
gatroyd,  fetching  his  breath  again,  bent  for- 
ward and  put  his  hand  lightly  on  his  shoul- 
der. His  purpose  was,  if  his  father  did  not 
rouse  up  at  once,  to  carry  him  to  the  sofa 
and  try  to  revive  him.  The  coat,  where  he 
touched  it,  was  wet.  Had  someone  else 
been  throwing  water  over  him  ?  He  with- 
drew his  hand  ;  it  felt  sticky ;  he  looked  at 
it ;  it  was  smeared  with  red — was  it  blood  ? 
It  was  blood  !  He  gave  back  a  step  or  two, 
as  if  he  himself  had  been  dealt  a  mortal 
blow. 

A  pang  of  horror  twisted  through  him  from 
head  to  foot,  like  a  serpent.  It  left  his  body 
numb ;  he  was  no  longer  conscious  of  it ;  he 
was  all  thought  and  action.  He  felt  for  his 
father's  heart.  It  was  still,  but  the  body 
was  yet  warm.  Then  he  remembered  that 
window  that  had  been  slammed  at  the  rear ; 
in  another  moment  he  found  himself  there  ; 

Q 


130  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

there  was  a  smear  of  bloody  fingers  on  the 
sash  where  it  had  been  seized  to  open  the 
window  ;  the  murderer  had  escaped  that 
way.  He  was  not  in  the  yard ;  a  pack- 
ing-case stood  against  the  opposite  wall ;  he 
had  climbed  over  and  passed  out  through 
the  building  opposite.  He  had  had  time 
enough  ;  it  would  be  useless  to  pursue  him 
now. 

Then  the  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  get 
help.  Murgatroyd's  mind  worked  logically 
but  rigidly  ;  one  idea  followed  the  previous 
one  in  order,  but  nothing  was  mapped  out 
beforehand. 

He  hurried  back  to  the  front.  The  sight 
of  the  body  still  in  its  awkward  posture  at 
the  desk  gave  him  a  new  shock ;  it  was 
dead ;  death  is  strange.  He  got  past  it,  not 
looking  full  at  it,  but  only  too  clearly  aware 
of  its  every  detail  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eye.  Once  in  the  antechamber  he  sprang 
through  it  to  the  outer  door  and  wrenched  it 
open. 

He  threw  a  look  up  and  down  the  silent 
street.  His  lips  were  just  opening  to  scream 
out  "  Murder  !  "  when  he  saw  a  figure  leis- 
urely advancing  in  his  direction.  The 
straight,  strong  figure  of  a  man,  with  his  hat 


SILENCE  131 

in  his  bare  hand,  in  spite  of  the  cold,  while 
with  his  other  hand  he  meditatively  felt  the 
surface  of  his  bald  poll,  as  a  gardener  exam- 
ines his  garden-bed  to  see  whether  the  seeds 
have  begun  to  sprout  yet.  There  was  no 
mistaking  that  bald  head,  that  investigating 
hand,  that  independent,  leisurely  gait,  that 
virile  figure.  It  was  Horace  Maydwell. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN    ESCAPE 

Murgatroyd  felt  that  Horace  was  the  man 
of  all  men  for  such  an  occasion,  and  with 
that  recognition  his  own  efficiency  forsook 
him.  Strength  went  out  of  his  legs,  and  he 
sat  down  heavily  on  the  steps,  sweating  and 
nauseated.  He  panted  like  one  who  has 
overrun  himself  in  a  race. 

Horace  caught  sight  of  him  while  yet  at 
a  distance  of  twenty  yards,  lifted  his  eye- 
brows with  jocose  surprise,  and  began  to 
smile. 

"  Halloo,  old  Sweetness  !  "  he  began  to 
say;  "what  you  up  to?  You  look  tired; 
been  on  the  go  ever  since  you  left  us  last 
night  ?  What  you  down  here  for,  anyway  ? 
Oh,  your  old  man's  office,  isn't  it  ?  Why, 
you're  sick,  boy  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  drew 
near.  The  smile  left  his  face  and  a  stern 
look  came  upon  it.  "  Has  he  been  kicking 
you  out,  or " 


AN   ESCAPE  133 

Murgatroyd  feebly  raised  one  arm ;  his 
mouth  opened,  but  he  could  only  gasp. 

"  Damn  him  !  I'll  kick  him  out,  if  you 
say  so  !  "  continued  Horace,  between  his 
teeth. 

' '  Dead ! ' '  croaked  Murgatroyd.  ' '  Killed ; 
stabbed  in  the  back !  " 

Horace  put  on  his  hat  and  stood  still. 

"  Get  up,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "and 
come  in." 

He  lifted  the  youth  by  the  arm,  noticing 
as  he  did  so  the  blood  on  his  hand.  He  led 
him  into  the  passage  and  through  the  open 
door  into  the  antechamber.  After  closing 
the  door,  he  said  in  a  low  and  gentle  tone, 
"  Look  at  me,  my  dear." 

The  other  raised  a  haggard  face.  Horace 
gazed  at  him  penetratingly.  Murgatroyd 
never  knew  what  his  friend  sought  to  deter- 
mine by  that  gaze. 

"  It's  good  you  came,"  he  faltered  out  at 
length.  "  Oh,  think  of  poor  mother  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  your  father  is  mur- 
dered ?  "  demanded  Horace,  steadily. 
"When  was  it? — just  now?  You  didn't 
see  anybody?  Perhaps  he  killed  himself." 

"  He's  stabbed  in  the  back.  He's  in 
there — just  as  I  found  him.  He  was  warm 


134  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

still,  and  I  heard  the  back  window  slam.  If 
I'd  started  right  off  I  might  have  caught  him, 
but  I  stopped  to  see — and  the  blood — he  got 
through  to  the  next  street — so  I  ran  to  the 
front  again  for  help,  and  you " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  I  see.  It's  all  right,  and  I'm 
damned  glad  I  happened  along.  If  it  had 
been  some  fool,  instead,  there  might —  Is 
there  a  washstand  here  ?  Go  and  wash  your 
hands.  It's  all  right,  Murgy.  We've  got 
to  die,  you  know,  and  some  of  us  have  got 
to  be  killed.  The  stars  do  it  all,  and  his 
tinie  had  come.  Now  let's  go  in  and  have 
a  look,  and  then  we'll  get  the  police ;  they're 
a  lot  of  asses,  but  it  can't  be  helped.  Brace 
up,  my  dear.  I'm  as  big  a  fool  as  any  of 
'em.  You  ought  to  kick  me  if  I  got  my 
deserts,  but  never  mind  !  Come  on  !  " 

The  Doctor  was  familiar  with  scenes  of 
death,  and  of  violence,  as  well.  He  made 
his  examination  quietly  and  coolly,  so  far  as 
it  could  be  done  without  disturbing  the  posi- 
tion of  the  body.  Mr.  Whiterduce  had  been 
struck  from  behind,  the  knife  passing  down- 
ward through  the  left  lung,  and  probably 
penetrating  the  apex  of  the  heart.  It  must 
have  been  a  powerful  blow,  with  a  keen 
weapon.  The  weapon  had  been  withdrawn, 


AN   ESCAPE  135 

and  the  murderer  seemed  to  have  left  no 
obvious  traces  of  himself.  Horace  Mayd- 
well  then  examined  the  back  window.  The 
murderer  had  evidently  run  thither,  on  hear- 
ing Murgatroyd  at  the  door,  had  got  out, 
letting  the  sash  fall  behind  him,  and  had 
dropped  to  the  ground,  a  distance  of  about 
eight  feet.  His  further  course,  as  well  as  his 
identity,  must  be  left  for  subsequent  investi- 
gation to  discover.  The  police  must  try 
their  skill.  "  And  I  guess  they'll  have  their 
hands  full  !  "  Horace  remarked.  "  It  looks 
pretty  dark.  Well,  we'll  see !  " 

There  was  a  police  station  around  the  cor- 
ner, and  thither  the  Doctor  went,  deeming 
it  better  to  lodge  the  information  himself 
than  to  trust  that  office  to  Murgatroyd,  who 
was  not  in  a  condition  to  make  himself  intel- 
ligible. If  he,  the  boy's  nearest  friend,  had 
for  a  moment  suspected  him  of  the  deed  it 
would  not  do  to  take  chances  with  the  po- 
lice. The  fact  that  Murgatroyd  remained 
on  guard  in  the  antechamber  would  of  itself 
go  far  to  exonerate  him  should  circumstances 
seem  to  indicate  any  sinister  complications. 
Horace  would  doubtless  have  felt  less  solici- 
tude had  he  been  at  this  time  aware  of  the 
details  of  his  young  friend's  journey  from  his 


136  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

house  to  the  office,  telling  everyone  he  met 
on  the  way  that  he  was  going  by  appoint- 
ment to  meet  his  father. 

Horace  returned  in  ten  minutes  with  a  ser- 
geant and  a  detective  from  the  station. 
While  these  individuals  were  in  the  midst  of 
their  work  two  distinguished  personages 
made  their  appearance — no  other  than  Judge 
Hemynge,  Whiterduce's  confidential  legal 
adviser,  and  Blackmer  Risdon,  of  the  Con- 
stitution. 

"  Whiterduce  murdered  !  "  exclaimed 
Risdon,  in  a  tone  that  made  the  windows 
vibrate.  "My  friend  Whiterduce  —  cut 
down  like  that  !  God  in  heaven,  is  noth- 
ing sacred  in  this  life?  " 

"By  the  Lord,  whoever  did  it  shall  hang 
for  it !  "  cried  the  Judge,  turning  pale,  with 
trembling  lips.  "No  man's  life  is  safe  in 
these  infernal  anarchistic  times  !  If  they  can 
kill  Whiterduce,  who's  safe  ?  They  may 
take  me  next  !  " 

"Don't  let  it  worry  you,  Judge,"  said 
Horace,  settling  the  glasses  and  fixing  his 
eyes  on  the  old  gentleman.  "  These  fellows 
don't  care  to  bother  with  a  man's  man  ; 
they  go  for  the  man  himself.  Besides,  we 
don't  know  yet  that  it  wasn't  some  com- 


AN  ESCAPE  137 

mon    thief.     What   put  anarchists  in   your 
head?" 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  And  what  the  devil 
— ah  !  Ain't  you  Horace  Maydwell?  " 

"  Dr.  Horace  Maydwell  is  my  name  and 
profession,  Judge.  What  about  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  you're — you're  the  fellow  that 
insulted ' ' 

"  Yes,  I'm  the  fellow  that  pulled  Whiter- 
duce's  nose  in  the  club,"  said  Horace,  com- 
ing quite  near,  as  the  Judge  backed  into  a 
corner.  He  spoke  in  a  tone  so  low  that  it 
was  audible  to  Hemynge  only — the  others 
being  otherwise  occupied.  "And  what  I 
did  to  the  master  I'm  ready  to  do  to  the 
man.  But  that  boy  there  is  my  friend,  and 
if  you  raise  your  voice  so  that  he  hears  about 
it,  now  or  later,  I'll  choke  your  cur's  life  out 
of  you." 

"  I — I  don't  want  any  trouble  with  you  in 
— in  the  house  of  death,  sir;  but  no  man 
can — I  shall — you  shall  hear  from  me,  sir  ! 

I  shall " 

But  the  other,  with  an  unpleasant  laugh, 
snapped  his  fingers  in  front  of  the  Judge's 
pallid  face  and  turned  away. 

Meanwhile  Risdon  was  questioning  the 
police  sergeant. 


138  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  Not  a  robbery,  you  say  ?  Do  you  infer, 
then,  a  personal " 

"  We  can't  say  nothing  definite  yet,  Mr. 
Risdon,  and  the  less  said  publicly  at  present 
the  better — as  I  needn't  tell  you,  sir.  It 
don't  look  to  me  like  nothin'  ordinary — 
that's  all.  There  might  be  things  stole — 
see?  We'll  have  to  get  an  inventory  to 
make  sure  about  that ;  but  it  ain't  no  com- 
mon thief  that  gets  behind  a  gentleman's 
chair,  he  sitting  easy  and  unsuspectin'  like 
— and  jabs  a  knife  into  him  afore  he  can 
turn  around — see?  Them  two  had  been 
havin'  a  chat,  confidential,  as  I  might  say  ; 
the  fellow  he  gets  up  from  that  chair  where 
he  was  a-sittin',  and  he  just  takes  a  turn 
past  the  back  of  Mr.  Whiterduce's  chair 
— see  ?  And  that's  when  the  job  was  done, 
to  my  mind — right  then  and  there,  in  the 
mid  of  a  word,  as  it  might  be.  There  might 
'a'  been  money,  or  dockyments,  or  what 
not,  as  he  wanted,  lyin'  on  the  table;  or 
there  might  not — see?  If  there  was,  why, 
we'll  find  it  out;  but  if  there  wasn't — see? 
— why,  then  what  I  says  is,  this  ain't  no 
common  thieving  job,  and  what  else  it  might 
be  will  appear  at  the  proper  time,  Mr.  Ris- 
don, if  you'll  excuse  me,  sir,  for  keepin'  my 


AN  ESCAPE  139 

mouth  shut,  which  is  the  rules,  as  you 
know,  sir." 

"But  you  have  your  theory,  eh?  I  can 
see  that,"  returned  the  great  editor  insinuat- 
ingly. 

"You  can  see  a  good  deal  further  than 
into  the  middle  of  next  week,  then  ?  "  in- 
terposed Horace,  with  that  disconcerting 
grin  of  his.  "  What  you  see  is  a  newspaper 
'  scoop,'  I  guess  !  But  if  my  friend  the  ser- 
geant knows  his  business,  and  which  side  his 
bread's  buttered,  he'll  let  you  scoop  in  the 
lies  to  suit  yourself." 

Risdon  raised  his  head  like  a  lion  accused 
of  robbing  hen-roosts,  but,  being  a  keen  stu- 
dent of  character,  he  at  once  perceived  that 
the  way  to  deal  with  this  person  was  not  to 
roar  at  him.  On  the  other  hand,  he  scented 
a  possible  source  of  information,  and  his 
diplomacy  and  insight  were  at  once  aroused 
to  avail  himself  of  it. 

"Your  animadversion  on  the  press  has 
too  much  justification,  Mr. — ah — I  beg  your 
pardon ' ' 

"Dr.  Maydwell." 

"Ah,  Doctor,  I  am  always  glad  to  meet 
men  of  your  profession.  My  own  father 
was  a  physician.  We  know  we're  on  safe 


140  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

ground  with  you.  I  was  about  to  say  that 
my  inquiries  were  made,  not  with  the  motive 
you  suppose,  which  my  affectionate  respect 
for  our  deceased  friend  would  forbid  in  any 

"  It  may  be  as  well  to  tell  you  that  there 
was  not  much  affection  lost  between  your 
deceased  friend  and  me,"  Horace  put  in. 
"  If  there  was  any  respect  it  was  all  on  one 
side." 

The  Titan  of  the  press  was  disconcerted 
for  a  moment.  He  took  another  look  at  his 
interlocutor  and  resumed,  in  another  tone : 

"  We  will  agree  to  differ  there,  then.  I 
am  well  aware  that  my  friend  had  enemies. 
But  you  and  I,  sir,  as  men  of  the  world,  may 
meet  on  the  common  ground  of  abhorrence 
of  lawless  violence,  and  desire  to  see  outrage 
brought  home  to  its  perpetrators.  Now, 
there  came  into  my  possession  this  morning 
a  letter  which,  though  anonymous,  bids  fair, 
in  view  of  what  has  occurred " 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Risdon,"  said  Horace, 
"I'm  a  plain  man  and  understand  plain  talk. 
All  that  long  language  is  wasted  on  me. 
You're  from  Maine,  ain't  you  ?  If  you  can 
remember  any  of  the  short  words  they  use  in 
the  backwoods  up  there,  we'll  get  on  better." 


AN  ESCAPE  141 

Blackmer  Risdon  had  his  cue  now,  and 
being  really  a  man  of  pith  under  all  his  dis- 
guises, he  swung  his  shoulders,  and  gave  a 
loose  rein  to  the  real  contents  of  himself. 

"By  God,  Doctor,  you're  the  sort  of 
huckleberry  it  does  me  good  to  run  up 
against !  I  want  to  see  more  of  you.  Get 
around  and  dine  with  me  to-night — just  you 
and  me — and  I'll  see  if  I  can't  get  in  under 
your  guard  and  give  you  as  good  as  you 
send.  There's  my  address.  Now,  you 
come  !  I  don't  give  a  damn  who  or  what 
you  hate  or  you  like,  but  if  you  don't  like  me 
before  I'm  done  with  you  I'll  know  why! 
I  guess  you'll  find  I'm  not  far  off  some  of 
your  notions,  though  I  do  run  a  newspaper 
for  money  and  talk  through  my  hat  to  fel- 
lows who  talk  through  theirs.  Now  see 
here.  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  ' ' 

He  put  a  piece  of  letter-paper  in  the  other's 
hand.  It  had  some  writing  on  it — a  conven- 
tional business  script,  such  as  is  written  by 
a  hundred  thousand  commercial  scribes — and 
was  to  this  effect : 

"MR.  RISDON,  Constitution  —  You  at- 
tended a  birthday  dinner  this  evening.  Be- 
fore long  you  may  meet  at  the  same  place 


142  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

again  for  a  different  sort  of  ceremony.  In 
the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death.  Some 
men  outlive  their  usefulness.  Unless  they 
can  give  satisfactory  guarantees,  they  have  to 
go.  Your  friend  has  not  done  so  up  to  now. 
I  have  no  hand  in  this  business,  but  I  know 
of  it.  If  you  don't  understand  what  I  mean, 
perhaps  Judge  Hemynge  will.  If  anything  is 
going  to  be  done,  it  had  better  be  done  quick. 
So  no  more  at  present  from  yours  truly, 

"ONE  OF  THE  BOYS. 
"  November  isth." 

"  If  it  was  meant  to  save  his  life,  it  came 
too  late,  and  if  not  I  see  no  use  in  writing 
it,"  observed  Horace,  handing  it  back. 
"  I'm  not  the  detective  in  this  case.  Give 
it  to  the  police." 

"  So,  you  swear  by  the  police,  don't  you  !  " 
returned  Risdon,  tilting  his  eyebrow.  "  Let's 
talk  sense.  This  thing  means  an  organiza- 
tion, don't  it?  I  showed  it  to  Hemynge 
this  morning.  He  was  Whiterduce's  inside 
man.  The  Judge  is  a  smart  man  and  a 
friend  of  mine ;  but  what  he  said  was, 
'  Just  another  piece  of  anonymous  tomfool- 
ery :  get 'em  every  mail :  it'll  work  out  into 
a  dodge  to  get  money — you'll  see.'  'But 


AN  ESCAPE  143 

it's  an  organization,'  I  said.  '  Organization 
be  damned  !  '  says  he ;  'if  it  was  an  organ- 
ization, then  Whiterduce  must  be  in  it, 
mustn't  he?  And  is  it  likely  that  Whiter- 
duce would  be  in  with  a  gang  that  murders 
its  members  when  they  don't  pony  up  right  ?' 
That's  the  way  the  Judge  put  it.  Now,  you 
see,  he  was  wrong  on  his  first  count — that  it 
was  only  a  bluff  for  cash  :  he  wouldn't  have 
come  down  here  this  morning,  only  I  made 
him  ;  for  when  the  young  chap  there  told 
us  his  father  was  to  be  at  his  office  to-day,  I 
put  this  and  that  together,  and  didn't  like 
the  look  of  it.  Now  what  I  say  is,  if  the 
Judge  was  wrong  on  one  count,  he  may  not 
have  been  right  on  the  other.  Do  you  get 
my  point  ?  I've  seen  a  good  deal  of  Whiter- 
duce myself,  and  I've  got  something  of  a 
nose  for  human  nature ;  and  my  totting-up 
of  him  was — '  Still  water  runs  deep  !  '  You 
might  go  in  and  out  with  him,  and  pass  the 
time  of  day,  year  out  and  year  in,  and  yet 
never  once  get  the  ghost  of  a  squint  at  what 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  man's  mind.  And 
unless  you  was  pretty  damned  smart  you 
wouldn't  so  much  as  get  to  suspect  that  there 
was  anything  at  the  bottom  of  his  mind  to 
get  a  squint  at !  Well,  now,  Hemynge  is  all 


144  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

right,  and  so  are  the  police;  but  maybe 
Whiter duce  was  a  touch  beyond  'em.  And 
my  idea  is,"  added  the  editor,  taking  out  a 
paper  of  chewing  tobacco,  offering  it  to  Hor- 
ace, who  declined  it,  and  then  detaching  a 
quid  for  himself,  "  that  there  are  resources 
at  the  disposal  of  a  newspaper  that  lay  over 
anything  else  in  the  world  ;  I  believe  there's 
the  biggest  sort  of  a  big  thing  behind  this 
murder.  I  say  such  things  have  no  business 
in  a  country  like  this  ;  and  by  God,  sir,  if  I 
have  life  and  means  I'm  going  to  follow  it 
up  and  hunt  it  down — let  the  stripes  fall  on 
whom  they  may  !  You  may  kick  at  Ameri- 
can aristocracy,  Dr.  Maydwell,  and  you  may 
say  that  politics  are  rotten,  and  the  church  a 
fraud,  and  the  municipal  offices  dens  of  pick- 
pockets ;  and  you  may  know  that  the  cost  of 
the  trimming  on  a  society  woman's  dress 
would  keep  a  slum  family  in  bang-up  style 
for  a  year ;  and  you  may  conclude  from  all 
that  that  there  can't  be  anything  very  bad 
in  what  goes  against  such  things,  whether 
they're  legal  or  whether  they  ain't ;  and  you 
may  have  personally  hated  the  man  who  was 
killed  here  an  hour  ago — I  remember  you 
now,  and  that  affair  at  the  club — and  to  end 
up,  you  may  say  that  all  I'm  after  is  to  boom 


AN  ESCAPE  145 

my  circulation  and  put  money  in  my  pocket. 
Those  may  be  your  opinions,  and  I  may  go 
with  you  as  to  most  of  'em,  though  if  you're 
such  a  donkey  as  to  believe  that  a  man  like 
me  can  have  no  motive  but  a  base  one  in 
working  out  this  job,  then  I  don't  give  a 
squirt  of  tobacco  juice  for  you  and  fifty  like 
you  !  But  that  ain't  the  way  I  size  you  up ; 
I  credit  you  with  brains  to  see  that  what- 
ever organization  or  conspiracy  was  behind 
this  murder,  means  no  help  to  the  poor,  nor 
lift  to  labor,  nor  cleanness  and  honesty  any- 
where ;  what  those  men  are  after  is  money 
and  power,  and  that  means,  for  such  men, 
robbery  and  terrorism.  And  I  guess  you 
have  a  heart  in  you  that ' ' 

"Look  here,  Blackmer,"  said  Judge 
Hemynge,  coming  behind  him  and  plucking 
him  by  the  sleeve,  "I'm  off.  They've  sent 
for  the  coroner,  and  as  I  have  no  evidence  to 
offer,  and  feel  pretty  seedy  anyhow,  I'm 
going  to  get  a  drink.  Unless  you  mean  to 
put  in  that  scrap  of  paper  of  yours,  you'd 
better  come  along. ' ' 

"  Shall  I  see  you  this  evening,  Doctor?  " 
asked  Risdon,  taking  up  his  hat  from  the  chair 
beside  which  he  had  been  standing,  and  put- 
ting forth  his  hand  to  grasp  the  other's. 


146  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  Come  to  my  office  after  you've  dined 
and  I'll  see  you,"  replied  Horace,  coldly; 
"  I  don't  dine  out.  You'll  find  me  in  the 
Directory.  Good-morning." 

All  this  time  Murgatroyd  had  been  sitting 
in  a  corner,  with  his  elbow  on  a  small  table, 
staring  at  nothing  and  apparently  inattentive 
to  what  was  going  on.  If  the  policeman  or 
the  detective  asked  him  a  question,  he  waited 
a  moment  or  two,  and  then  answered  it  in- 
telligently, relapsing  immediately  into  his 
brown  study.  Occasionally  he  would  com- 
press his  temples  between  the  thumb  and 
fingers  of  his  right  hand.  You  would  have 
said,  to  look  at  him,  that  he  had  had  a  stun- 
ning fall  and  was  dully  waiting  for  his  wits 
to  come  back  to  him.  Horace  came  up, 
when  the  Judge  and  the  editor  had  gone, 
and  half  sat  on  the  little  table,  putting  his 
arm  on  the  other's  shoulder.  "  Keep  a  grip 
on  yourself,  you  know,"  said  he. 

"  It's  poor  mother,"  answered  the  young 
man,  in  a  heavy  tone.  "I've  got  to  tell 
her.  Poor  mother  !  ' ' 

"  Say,  my  dear,  each  fellow's  own  troub- 
les are  enough  for  him.  It's  no  use  your 
doing  other  folks'  worrying.  Maybe  she'll 
stand  it  better  than  you  think." 


AN   ESCAPE  147 

"  She  sent  him  her  dearest  love — I  was  to 
mind  not  forget  to  tell  him,  and  that  he  was 
to  come  home  soon — she  wanted  him,  and 
that  she  was  very  happy,  and  we  all  would 
be  happier  and  happier  right  along  now. 
She  kissed  me — she  was  so  sweet  and  lovely 
I  pretty  near  cried,  I  guess — and  I've  got  to 
go  home  and  tell  her — I  shall  have  to 
say " 

He  stopped  and  resumed  his  blank  atti- 
tude. 

Horace  was  surprised.  He  thought  he 
had  good  reason  to  believe  that  there  was 
no  love  lost  between  this  married  pair.  But 
there  was  evidently  reason  for  the  boy's 
thinking  otherwise. 

"I'll  go  home  with  you,  Murgy,"  he 
said,  presently.  "  We'll  go  together,  as 
soon  as  these  duffers  are  through.  I'll  stay 
by  you,  my  boy." 

"But  I  must  tell,"  he  answered,  looking 
up.  "I'm  the  head  of  the  house  now;  I 
must  do  it." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  to  be  sure.  And  you'll  take  as 
good  care  of  her  as  anybody  could — better. 
Keep  your  grit — that's  the  way.  And  count 
on  me,  when  you  want  me,  every  time." 

The  coroner  came  at  length,  the  necessary 


148  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

inquiries  were  made  and  answered  and  the 
permit  given.  Murgatroyd  could  now  go 
home.  He  accepted  Horace's  companion- 
ship, but  was  depressed  and  taciturn.  "  I'm 
glad  of  one  thing — she'll  know  what  he 
wanted  and  I  can  have  it  done,"  was  one  of 
his  observations.  "  I  can  do  what  I'm  told 
— even  fools  can  do  that.  I'm  the  head, 
but  she'll  be  the  brains." 

"Well,  I  believe  she's  a  good  woman," 
said  Horace. 

"I'll  be  her  servant  all  my  life,"  rejoined 
the  young  man.  "  All  I  hope  is,  she  won't 
want  me  to — to  marry.  I'd  rather  stay 
with  her  than  marry  the  best  other  woman 
in  the  world.  I  know  Miss  Sharingbourne 
is  very  nice — ever  so  much  more  so  than  I 
need — but  I  want  my  mother  ;  seems  to  me, 
to  make  her  happy,  even  I  could  become  a 
decent  sort  of  fellow." 

"  You've  got  some  friends  who  think 
you're  pretty  decent  as  you  are  already." 

Murgatroyd  answered  only  with  a  big 
sigh.  He  was  evidently  struggling  to  ac- 
commodate his  hitherto  boyish  mind  to  the 
idea  of  manly  responsibilities,  and,  with  the 
simplicity  natural  to  him,  was  trusting  to  his 
love  for  his  mother  to  help  him  out.  His 


AN  ESCAPE  149 

friend  smiled  to  himself  at  the  pathos  of  this 
conception.  The  idea  of  carrying  on  the 
Whiterduce  policy  on  the  basis  of  filial  af- 
fection was  at  least  a  novelty.  To  be  de- 
veloped into  a  man  of  the  world  by  the  in- 
spiration of  a  mother's  kiss  !  But  w.hat 
perplexed  Horace  as  much  as  anything  else 
was  this  enshrining  of  Mrs.  Whiterduce  in 
the  chief  place  in  Murgatroyd's  heart.  He 
had  hardly  ever  mentioned  her  before  ;  and, 
as  has  been  already  intimated,  the  Doctor 
had  gathered  from  the  unconscious  revela- 
tions of  the  lady  herself,  in  her  feverish  de- 
lirium, hints  enough  to  show  that  she  had 
never  recognized  Murgatroyd  as  her  own 
son.  He  was  forced  to  conclude  that  the 
sudden  flowering  of  this  love  and  devotion 
must  be  due  to  the  violent  emotional  shock 
of  Whiterduce's  death,  causing  the  youth  to 
throw  himself  into  imaginative  sympathy 
with  the  widow.  Horace  himself,  it  need 
hardly  be  added,  was  far  from  anticipating 
that  the  news  they  were  carrying  to  the  lady 
would  have  anything  like  such  an  effect  upon 
her  as  his  companion  looked  for.  She  would 
regard  it,  he  thought,  as  a  blessing,  con- 
veyed, no  doubt,  in  a  very  objectionable 
manner,  but  an  essential  blessing  all  the 


150  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

same.  Thus  did  he  furnish  another  illustra- 
tion of  the  impotence  of  human  sagacity  to 
interpret  one's  fellow-creatures  aright.  Love 
is  the  only  true  interpreter  ;  and  even  love 
is,  in  human  beings,  so  mingled  with  per- 
sonal shortcomings  that  its  vision  is  often 
blurred. 

As  they  went  up  the  steps  of  the  house 
Murgatroyd,  instead  of  appearing  more  agi- 
tated, became  calmer.  It  was  that  strange 
strength  which  is  begotten  of  the  oblitera- 
tion of  selfish  feeling  in  concern  for  another. 

"  Stay  downstairs,  please,"  he  said  to  his 
friend.  "  I  must  go  up  to  her  alone." 

Sally  Wintle  opened  the  door,  the  smile 
with  which  she  greeted  Murgatroyd  disap- 
pearing in  an  expression  of  decorous  formal- 
ity as  she  observed  the  stranger.  ' '  Is  my 
mother  in  her  room?  "  asked  Murgatroyd. 

"Yes,  sir;  I  called  her  for  lunch  half  an 
hour  ago,  but  she  said  she'd  wait  for  you. 
Will  I  put  another  plate,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,"  interposed  Maydwell ;  "I  shan't 
be  long.  Go  up,  my  boy  ;  I'll  look  out  for 
myself." 

Murgatroyd  went  upstairs,  and  for  some 
minutes  Horace  remained  gazing  absently  at 
a  fine  engraving  of  Raphael's  "  Transfigu- 


AN  ESCAPE  151 

ration,"  which  hung  in  the  hall.  By  and 
by  he  heard  Murgatroyd's  voice  calling  him 
from  the  top  of  the  stairs  in  a  singular, 
hushed  tone,  ' '  Horace  !  Horace  !  ' ' 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  and  ran  up.  The  other 
met  him  on  the  landing  and  grasped  his 
hand  in  a  tremulous  grip. 

"  It  breaks  my  heart,"  he  said,  the  words 
seeming  to  be  shaken  out  of  him.  "  But 
oh!  I'm  glad — I'm  glad  !" 

Horace  stood,  uncomprehending.  After 
a  pause-  the  other,  still  keeping  hold  of 
his  hand,  drew  him  into  a  room  to  the 
left. 

It  was  Mrs.  Whiterduce's  boudoir.  Hor- 
ace saw  the  beautiful,  stately  woman  seated 
in  a  low  arm-chair,  beside  a  little  writing- 
table  of  inlaid  wood.  She  had  opened  the 
drawer,  and  there  were  in  her  lap  some  old 
photographs.  They  were  likenesses  of  her 
friends  of  earlier  days,  taken  before  the  time 
of  her  marriage.  Her  hand  held  one  of 
Pynchepole  Whiterduce  as  a  young  man  of 
thirty — the  gift  of  the  lover  to  his  mistress. 
Her  head,  with  its  slightly  silvered  hair,  re- 
clined against  the  cushion  at  the  back  of  the 
chair ;  and  the  light  from  the  window,  fall- 
ing gently  on  her  face  through  the  gauze 


152  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

curtain,  showed  that  she  smiled,  as  one  who 
dwells  on  happy  memories. 

But  she  did  not  stir  nor  betray  conscious- 
ness of  the  presence  of  the  stranger.  Her 
pleasant  revery  was  too  profound. 

The  two  men  moved  slowly  up  to  her. 
The  physician  bent  forward  j  he  touched  her 
wrist  with  his  finger. 

"  I  might  have  thought  of  this,"  he  said. 
"  When  I  attended  her  three  years  ago,  I  ex- 
amined her  heart,  and  knew  that  she  would 
be  liable  to  go  off  at  any  moment,  especially 
after  any  strong  excitement  or  emotion. 
But  had  you  told  her? — did  she  know?  " 

"  No,  that's  why  I'm  so  glad.  She  never 
knew ;  she  never  will  now.  They'll  always 
be  happy  together  now.  It's  the  best  thing 
in  the  world ;  but  I  loved  her  so — I ' ' 

His  voice  broke,  and  he  said  no  more. 

"  This  is  a  queer  old  world,"  Horace  kept 
repeating  to  himself  as  he  sauntered  slowly 
home  that  evening,  his  hat  in  his  hand — 
"a  queer  old  world!  I  wonder  what' 11 
come  of  it!  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

NATURE   AND    EDUCATION 

Some  eighteen  months  after  the  death  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whiterduce  there  was  again  a 
group  of  elegant  idlers  in  the  smoking-room 
of  the  St.  Quentin  Club. 

During  the  interval,  Aubert  Frewin,  the 
artist,  had  been  in  Europe,  for  some  or  all  of 
the  purposes  that  have  led  our  men  of  paint 
and  canvas  thither  since  the  epoch  of  Ben- 
jamin West.  He  had  reappeared  in  the  club 
for  the  first  time  since  his  return,  on  this 
particular  afternoon — to  tell  the  truth,  he 
landed  at  nine  o'clock,  and  was  in  the  midst 
of  his  fellow -members  by  four.  He  was  rich- 
ly encrusted  with  foreign  aesthetic  culture, 
and  his  habits  of  abstraction  and  other  idio- 
syncrasies had  become  softened  by  a  mellow- 
ing atmosphere  of  worldly  experience.  He 
behaved  with  great  urbanity  to  his  old  com- 
rades, but  found  difficulty  in  wholly  disguis- 
ing the  fact  that  these  haunts  of  his  youth 


154  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

struck  him  as  being  just  a  trifle  provincial. 
He  said  the  Arts  Club,  in  London,  wasn't 
half  a  bad  place  ;  you  met  fellows  there  who 
knew  a  thing  or  two  about  painting.  Paris, 
Vienna,  Venice,  Florence,  Rome,  he  had 
found  many  agreeable  features  in  all  these 
places.  He  did  not  indorse  the  dogmas  of 
the  more  recent  apostles  of  art.  "  After  all, 
you  know,  those  old  chaps  were  the  great 
men ;  they  knew  what  they  were  about. ' ' 
The  club  listened  to  this  sort  of  thing  for  a 
season  with  tolerable  grace;  then  Stukely 
Poyntell  said,  "  Is  this  to  be  a  series  of  lect- 
ures, or  are  we  to  get  it  all  at  once  ?  " 

Aubert  smiled.  "  Ah,  Stukely,  same  old 
boy  !  Well,  what's  been  doing  here  ?  Any- 
thing new  ?  ' ' 

"The  Constitution  has  a  circulation  of 
four  hundred  thousand  copies,  bona-f.de  sales, 
exclusive  of  returns,  as  may  be  seen  by  an 
examination  of  the  books,  which  are  open 
to  public  inspection,  if  the  sworn  affidavits 
of  eminent  and  impartial  business  men,  pub- 
lished in  the  second  column  of  the  editorial 
page,  should  prove  insufficient  to  satisfy  ad- 
vertisers and  readers,"  said  Verinder  Vyse, 
making  movements  with  his  right  arm  as 
he  were  turning  a  crank. 


NATURE  AND  EDUCATION  155 

"Yes;  its  rejection  of  Vyse's  last  novel, 
though  offered  free  of  charge,  gave  it  an  im- 
mense boom,"  added  Poyntell. 

"  That,  and  its  amateur  detective  work  on 
the  great  Whiterduce  murder  case,"  said  Will 
Walwine,  a  gentleman  of  coaching  and  polo- 
ing  proclivities,  with  short-cropped  hair,  a 
high-featured  and  high-colored  countenance, 
an  imposing  bust,  a  pinched-in  waist  and 
gaiters.  He  imparted  to  whatever  he  ut- 
tered the  air  and  tone  of  an  excellent  jest 
or  a  telling  epigram,  though  nothing  of  such 
matters  was  discoverable  in  the  utterances 
themselves. 

' '  Aurelia  Estengrewe  has  become  a  priest- 
ess of  Isis,  and  has  gone  to  India  with  our 
last  visiting  Mahatma,"  said  Vyse.  "  Han- 
nah has  written  a  cookery  book,  Sabina  is 
a  woman's  suffrage  advocate  and  speaks 
from  the  platform,  and  Mrs.  Jellicoe,  after 
inheriting  another  million  from  her  brother 
in  San  Francisco,  has  been  married  to  the 
Rev.  Christopher  Plukerose  Agabag. ' ' 

"  Mrs.  Dorothy  Tiptoft,  at  the  age  of 
ninety-two,  was  thrown  from  her  carriage  in 
the  Park  and  broke  her  leg,"  said  Poyntell. 
' '  But  she  recovered  and  now  walks  quite 
well  with  a  crutch. ' ' 


156  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  Devereux  Scaramanga  has  written  and 
scored  a  great  American  opera,  '  Pocahon- 
tas,'  and " 

"  Yes,  by  Jove  !  "  interrupted  Will  Wai- 
wine,  warmly;  "and  there's  a  bang-up  lit- 
tle piece  has  come  out  and  taken  the  part — 
Letty  Valentine.  She's  a  pupil  of — what  is 
that  chap's  name? — and  old  Turlbut,  the 
impresario,  pays  her  four  thousand  a  week." 

11  By  the  way,  how  was  it  about  that  mur- 
der business  ?  ' '  Frewin  inquired.  ' '  When 
I  left  they'd  only  just  got  started  on  it." 

"Well,  the  hanging  isn't  in  sight  yet — 
you're  in  plenty  of  time  for  that,"  said 
Stukely  Poyntell.  "  But  Risdon  is  still  on 
the  trail.  To  do  him  justice  (though  he  is 
my  employer),  he  has  done  a  wonderful  busi- 
ness with  that  thing.  He's  brought  the  crime 
home  to  at  least  four  prominent  secret  or- 
ganizations, incidentally  giving  a  history  of 
each,  with  interviews  with  its  prominent 
members,  and  has  invented  as  many  more, 
the  details  about  which  are  even  more 
bloody  and  harrowing." 

"  The  real  ones,  of  course,  pay  him  for 
writing  them  up,"  said  Vyse,  "but  the 
others  are  sheer  creations  of  genius  and  make 
me  jealous.  Husbands  and  wives  in  society 


NATURE  AND  EDUCATION  157 

watch  each  other  at  the  breakfast-table,  ready 
to  dodge  bombs  ;  and  people  get  insured 
against  death  by  poisoning  every  time  they 
attend  an  afternoon  tea.  That's  the  reason 
the  Mahatma  eloped  with  Aurelia — the  new 
fad  put  his  little  boom  in  the  soup." 

"  Any  more  murders  ?  " 

"  No ;  that's  the  weak  point  of  the  scheme. 
I  told  Ridson  his  circulation  depended  upon 
it,  but  he  has  his  limitations.  When  I  talk 
about  an  aristocratic  Jack  the  Ripper,  though, 
the  poor  man  sighs  and  gnaws  his  chewing 
tobacco. ' ' 

"  What's  become  of  Murgy  ?  " 

"  Ah !  now  you  have  touched  upon  the 
really  pregnant  marvel  of  the  day,"  replied 
the  novelist.  "  You  know  the  sort  of  bump- 
kin he  was — that  we  thought  he  was,  rather  ? 
We  were  wrong  !  There  were  depths,  boy, 
that  our  little  plummets  had  never  sounded. 
Here's  a  young  cub,  fresh  from  school,  with 
shining  morning  face,  of  whose  talent  for 
after-dinner  oratory  you,  I  think,  have  heard 
a  specimen  ;  a  cabbage-head  who  takes  all 
your  jokes  for  earnest,  but  splutters  with  gig- 
gles if  a  lady  spills  the  salt  or  a  servant  stum- 
bles while  bringing  in  the  tea-tray ;  this  ani- 
mal— this  sucking  Caliban — I  say,  suddenly 


I5&  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

tumbles  into  an  unencumbered  inheritance 
of — let  us  be  grossly  moderate  and  call  it  ten 
millions.  This  trifling  douceur  is  his,  ab- 
solutely, by  will,  and  (practically)  in  cash, 
to  do  with  precisely  as  he  pleases.  Guess, 
now,  an  thou  canst,  what  he  doth  with 
these  sudden  riches.  Spendeth  he  you  a 
million  on  gaudy  viands  and  potent  sack  ; 
another  on  a  harem  in  comparison  whereto 
that  of  Solomon  was  but  as  a  young  ladies' 
private  boarding-school ;  a  third  on  haughty 
palaces,  wherein  it  skilleth  him  not  to  dwell ; 
a  fourth  in  chariots  and  steeds  ;  a  fifth  and 
sixth  in  losing  bets  on  the  latter  to  Walwine 
and  his  like,  and  the  remainder  in  furnishing 
forth  a  loathly  crew  of  flatterers,  sycophants, 
lick  spittles,  bravos,  and  dead-beats  in  gen- 
eral ?  Doeth  he  these  things  or  any  of 
them  ?  Friend,  I  tell  thee  nay.  Oh  !  James, 
ask  the  gentlemen  what  they'll  take." 

"A  drop  of  absinthe  for  me,  James," 
said  Frewin. 

The  glances  of  Poyntell  and  Vyse  met 
over  his  head. 

"  Fetch  me  a  noggin  of  prussic  acid  and 
arsenic,"  said  the  former.  "  I  do  find  my- 
self somewhat  feeble  to-day  !  ' ' 

"  You  really  ought  to  try  and  ease  off  on 


NATURE  AND  EDUCATION  159 

those  strong  tipples,  though,  Stuke,  my  boy," 
said  Vyse.  "  You'll  end  by  regretting  it. 
James,  bring  me  a  pint  of  brandy  and  laud- 
anum mixed,  with  just  a  dash  of  red  pepper. 
I  learned  to  drink  that,  my  dear  Mr.  Frew- 
in,  during  my  residence  abroad,  and  find 
it  agrees  with  me  wonderfully.  As  for  Wai- 
wine,  he  still  is  faithful  to  his  good  old 
mulled  ammonia,  ain't  you,  Wai  ?  And, 
really,  for  a  steady  day  and  night  stand-by  I 
don't  know  that  one  could  do  better." 

Frewin  was  fain  to  grin  ;  he  colored  at 
the  delicate  rebuke,  but  took  it  gracefully. 
"This  is  my  treat,  boys,"  he  said,  "and 
it's  fizz.  Name  your  brand.  Mumm  it  is, 
James.  Now,  my  romantic  improvisator, 
resume  your  fascinating  tale." 

"  Praise  from  Sir  Aubert  is  praise  indeed. 
Where  were  we?  Well,  you  know,  instead 
of  all  the  above,  the  man  has  come  out  as 
correct  as  Hoyle  and  as  stiff  as  Walwine's 
stays.  He  avoids  faux  pas  by  saying  little, 
or  less,  never  taking  a  joke  or  making  one, 
and  studying  the  arts  and  sciences  eight 
hours  a  day,  under  all  the  leading  professors 
—  astronomy  to-day,  history  to-morrow, 
chemistry  on  Thursday,  fencing  Friday,  so- 
ciology and  law  on  Saturday,  and  on  Sunday 


160  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

he  listens  to  disputations  between  rival  doc- 
tors of  theology.  He'll  end  as  the  Francis 
Bacon  of  the  nineteenth  century.  But  the 
crisp  of  the  joke  is  his  search,  not  for  the 
Philosopher's  Stone,  but  for  the  policy  and 
procedure  of  the  late  esteemed  and  tragic 
Pynchepole. ' ' 

"  As  how?" 

"Why,  on  looking  into  the  records  of 
revenue  and  expenditure,  he  made  the  dis- 
covery that  a  good  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  lat- 
ter, during  the  last  ten  or  fifteen  years,  had 
disappeared  without  any  record  at  all !  Put- 
ting the  total  income  of  the  estate  at,  say, 
five  hundred  thousand,  here's  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  spent  each  twelvemonth 
on  nobody  can  find  out  what !  Of  course 
one  might  make  certain  guesses  about  at  least 
a  fraction  of  it,  if  Pynchepole  had  been  a 
certain  kind  of  man  ;  but  it's  notorious  that 
he  was  never  anything  of  the  sort ;  the 
blameless  tenor  of  his  daily  life  was  known 
to  all  men  ;  his  temperament  and  constitu- 
tion alike  forbade  excesses  ;  and,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  from  the  day  he  entered  college  to 
the  hour  of  his  decease  he  was  never  detected 
in  any  species  of  dissipation  or  wanton  ex- 
travagance. On  the  other  hand,  his  legiti- 


NATURE  AND  EDUCATION  161 

mate  expenses  were  on  a  grand  scale,  and  his 
charities  are  said  to  have  been  regal — I  be- 
lieve that  was  the  Constitution 's  word,  wasn't 
it,  Stuke  ?  The  money  he  spent  openly,  in 
short,  covers  about  every  avenue  of  expendi- 
ture that  ingenuity  can  imagine ;  and  yet 
there  is  that  deficit  of  a  quarter  of  a  million 
annually  staring  you  in  the  face.  It  used  to 
be  supposed,  while  he  was  alive,  that  he 
added  his  superfluous  income  to  his  invested 
capital;  but  it  is  now  plain  that  he  never 
did  anything  of  the  kind.  One  of  the  most 
entertaining  of  the  late  Lord  Lytton's  ro- 
mances is  called  'What  Will  He  Do  with 
It  ?  '  But  this  unwritten  tale  of  '  What  Did 
He  Do  with  It  ? '  leaves  it  at  the  post  and 
romps  in  hands  down,  as  Walwine  would 
say." 

"Humph  !  "  muttered  Frewin,  staring  at 
the  toe  of  his  boot.  "  Maybe  the  right  man 
to  solve  the  riddle  would  be  he  who  stuck 
the  knife  into  poor  Pynchepole's  back." 

"Why  mightn't  he  have  buried  it,  the 
way  that  pirate  chap  did — Kidd  ?  ' '  sug- 
gested Walwine. 

Much  to  his  surprise  and  gratification — 
for  he  had  not  realized  that  he  was  being 
waggish — this  sally  elicited  a  laugh. 


1 62  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  Come  to  think  of  it,  I  heard  that 
Pynchepole  had  had  his  cellar  enlarged 
about  a  dozen  years  ago,"  said  Poyntell. 
"Shouldn't  wonder  if  you'd  hit  it,  Wai. 
Propose  to  tell  Murgy  the  secret  on  condi- 
tion he  divvies  with  you." 

"Hadn't  old  Hemynge — where  is  Hem- 
ynge,  by  the  bye? — hadn't  he  anything  to 
say  about  it  ?  "  Frewin  asked. 

"  Hemynge,  I  regret  to  say,  is  no  longer 
in  it,"  said  Poyntell. 

"Dead?" 

"  Not  physically.  We  don't  know  ex- 
actly what  happened ;  but  Murgy  seems  to 
have  become  dissatisfied  with  him  for  some 
reason,  and  fired  him — he  used  to  be  Pynche- 
pole's  attorney-general,  you  know.  The 
impetus  of  his  expulsion  seems  to  have  pos- 
sessed such  momentum  that  the  Judge  van- 
ished beyond  the  limits  of  polite  knowledge. 
'Tis  said  that  Mrs.  Tiptoft  sends  him  ten 
dollars  a  week,  wherever  he  is,  for  old  times' 
sake." 

"  So  Murgy  is  trying  to  find  out  how  his 
father  got  rid  of  his  income,  is  he  ?  What's 
his  object  ?  ' ' 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  Vyse,  "  his  object 
is  to  maintain  the  reputation  of  the  Whiter- 


NATURE  AND  EDUCATION  163 

duces.  And  here  the  tale  becomes  pathetic. 
Nobody  was  ever  so  wise,  you  remember,  as 
somebody  or  other  looked ;  and  so,  nobody 
ever  deserved  such  a  reputation  as  the  Whit- 
erduces  enjoyed.  But  poor  Murgy,  in  his 
innocence,  takes  it  all  au  grand  serieux,  and 
really  believes  that  he  has  to  compete  against 
an  ancestry  of  demigods.  He  is  persuaded 
that  his  father  had  some  divine  use  for  all 
that  money,  and  he  will  never  rest  till  he 
finds  what  it  was,  and  can  quiet  his  con- 
science by  directing  the  golden  stream  along 
the  same  channel.  He  refuses  to  see  the 
rather  obvious  fact  that  if  the  said  money 
had  been  applied  to  any  laudable  or  even 
mentionable  purpose,  the  beneficiaries  of  it 
would  long  since  have  declared  themselves. 
Or  possibly  he  thinks  that  it  was  dispensed 
to  these  hypothetical  parties  with  such  ex- 
quisite delicacy  that  they  never  discovered 
whence  it  came.  Anyway,  there  it  is,  and 
meanwhile,  of  course,  the  Whiterduce  capital 
is  rolling  up,  and  Plutus  only  knows  what 
the  end  will  be." 

"  Well,  I  give  it  up.  Where's  Stepyng- 
stone  ?  has  he  been  retired,  too  ?  ' ' 

"  No,  but  Mrs.  S.  has  gone  daft,  her  first 
overt  demonstration  being  to  spring  an  ac- 


1 64  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

tion  for  divorce  on  him.  Her  complaint 
shows  him  up  in  such  colors  as  would  make 
Don  Juan  a  mere  pithless  schoolboy  in  com- 
parison. But  it  turned  out,  before  it  had 
got  further  than  the  drawing  up  of  the  affi- 
davits, that  she  had  no  witnesses  and  no  co- 
respondents that  could  be  found  on  earth,  so 
some  doctors  sat  upon  her,  and  she  is  now  in 
a  private  establishment. ' ' 

"  The  poor  old  General !  " 

"  But  do  you  appreciate  the  real  sadness 
of  his  condition?"  asked  Poyntell.  "It 
was  not  so  much  being  bereft  of  his  wife  that 
made  him  downcast,  as  the  smiling  recogni- 
tion on  the  part  of  all  who  knew  him  that 
her  charges  against  him  could  by  no  possi- 
bility be  true.  It  is  one  thing  to  vindicate 
one's  innocence  in  the  teeth  of  grave  and 
plausible  suspicion ;  it  is  quite  another  to 
find  it  taken  for  granted  on  the  ground  of 
one's  incapacity  for  guilt.  The  General  was, 
at  first,  secretly  flattered  by  the  magnificent 
scale  of  his  wife's  accusations.  He  seemed 
to  be  saying :  'Of  course,  morally,  I'm  ut- 
terly incapable  of  such  enormities ;  but  you 
see  what  a  devil  of  a  fellow  I  could  be  if  I 
chose  !  '  But  wherever  he  went  he  was 
greeted  with  broad  smiles  and  compassionate 


NATURE  AND  EDUCATION  165 

clappings  on  the  back,  and  such  remarks  as, 
'  Never  mind,  Stepyngstone,  old  man ;  we 
might  have  believed  you  poisoned  your 
mother,  or  stole  the  club  spoons,  or  ate  roast 
baby  for  supper — anything  in  reason,  you 
know — but  when  it  comes  to  a  thing  like 
this,  dear  old  boy,  why,  you  mustn't  let  it 
worry  you  a  single  moment !  You  might  as 
well  get  nervous  about  a  railway  accident 
that  occurred  forty  years  ago — forty  years 
ago,  my  dear  Step.'  That  was  the  sort  of 
encouragement  that  corroded  the  General's 
heroic  soul,  and  we  don't  see  his  fine  old 
legs  stalking  round  here  so  often  as  we  used 
to  do." 

"Well,  you're  a  sweet,  charitable  lot," 
observed  Frewin,  getting  up  and  stretching 
himself.  "  I  only  hope  you'll  all  die  before 
I  do  !  "  And  with  that  he  lounged  off. 


CHAPTER   X 

AN   ITALIAN    INTERLUDE 

There  was  a  house  of  modest  pretensions, 
on  a  quiet  but  accessible  street,  which  was 
kept  as  an  Italian  restaurant.  A  bust  of 
Garibaldi  stood  between  the  two  end  win- 
dows, and  there  were  chromos  of  Victor 
Emmanuel,  Humbert  and  his  pretty  Queen, 
the  Pope,  and  some  less  world-famed  person- 
ages distributed  about  the  walls.  The  house 
was  simply  a  dwelling  of  the  style  of  a  gen- 
eration ago,  modified  into  an  eating-place ; 
some  doorways  had  been  enlarged,  a  loggia 
built  out  over  the  back  yard,  and  a  large 
dumb-waiter  shaft  constructed  to  communi- 
cate with  the  first  two  floors.  The  proprie- 
tor, Signer  Gaetano,  sat  on  a  high  stool  at  a 
desk  at  the  juncture  of  the  front  and  rear 
rooms ;  he  was  quick  and  nervous  as  a  lizard, 
and  had  the  national  gift  for  gesture,  but  was 
not  in  other  respects  of  the  conventional 
Italian  type;  he  was  blond,  pale,  rather 
bald,  in  disposition  benign  and  conciliating, 


AN   ITALIAN  INTERLUDE  167 

most  courteous  to  all  guests,  and  tenderly 
enthusiastic  in  his  greetings  to  those  of  old 
standing.  He  was  obviously  under  subjec- 
tion to  an  imposing  wife,  with  curly  yellow 
hair,  a  costly  complexion,  and  a  Junonian 
bust.  The  waiters  were  numerous  and  dili- 
gent, and  grateful  for  small  tips ;  the  viands 
were  well  cooked  and  the  dishes  (at  50  cents 
a  head)  interminable,  with  plenty  of  maca- 
roni, salad  and  olives,  and  straw-covered 
wine-flasks  with  round  bellies  and  slim  necks, 
evolving  red  Chianti  with  an  agreeable  blob- 
bing sound.  Bread  was  abundant  and  excel- 
lent, and  apparently  costless  ;  there  were  on 
every  table  tall  glasses  containing  celery, 
and  others  holding  long,  crisp  sticks  of  a  sort 
of  biscuit,  to  be  devoured  between  courses. 
After  the  regular  dinner,  there  were  little 
cups  of  black  coffee,  with  cognac  to  pour 
over  your  sugar  and  set  fire  to ;  and  then 
you  lit  a  cigarette,  for  the  ladies  permitted 
it,  and  occasionally  even  took  a  whiff  them- 
selves. No  one  ever  got  up  discontented 
from  Signer  Gaetano's  tables ;  and  there 
was  a  constant  buzz  of  amicable  but  never 
uproarious  conversation ;  and  everybody  had 
the  air  of  being  more  or  less  acquainted  with 
everybody  else. 


1 68  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

It  is  pleasant,  once  in  a  while,  to  get  a 
good  dinner  without  paying  for  it,  not  only 
in  twice  the  fair  amount  of  coin  of  the 
realm,  but  likewise  in  a  rigid  respectability 
of  demeanor,  a  bullying  or  rapacious  waiter, 
and  an  insulting  desk  clerk.  After  dining 
once  at  Signer  Gaetano's  you  made  up  your 
mind  to  go  there  often,  but  you  seldom  car- 
ried out  your  resolution,  because  the  place 
was  a  little  out  of  the  way,  and  the  persons 
with  whom  you  proposed  to  dine  were  usu- 
ally headed  in  some  other  direction.  But 
there  were  some  whose  pliant  circumstances 
or  valiant  souls  enabled  them  to  do  as  they 
liked,  and  of  these  were  Horace  Maydwell, 
Polydore  Scamell,  and,  less  frequently,  Ga- 
briel Negus. 

On  a  lovely  evening  in  June — the  time  of 
year  when  we  first  begin  to  stop  being  morose 
about  late  frosts  and  snow  flurries — the  tri- 
umvirate met  at  Gaetano's  by  appointment, 
and  with  them  a  distinguished  and  enchant- 
ing companion — no  less  than  the  popular 
prima  donna,  Letitia  Valentine.  Letitia  was 
now  a  great  personage  in  the  world's  eye. 
The  gilded  youth  of  the  city  sighed  for  her 
to  a  dude ;  the  princes  of  society  sought  her 
company  at  banquets  of  Sardanapalus ;  she 


AN   ITALIAN  INTERLUDE  169 

lived  in  a  storm  of  flattery,  flowers,  jewels, 
and  millinery,  and  nothing  was  too  good  for 
her.  The  little  woman,  with  her  wavy  red 
hair,  her  dancing  dark  eyes,  her  radiant  skin, 
her  ravishing  soprano,  and  her  transcendent 
impudence,  was  making  her  hay  while  the 
sun  shone,  and  took  a  liberal  view  of  human 
nature  and  the  proprieties.  Yet  she  was 
neither  reckless  nor  vicious.  She  knew  the 
price  of  success  as  well  as  the  value  of  it. 
She  did  not  lose  her  head,  and  she  even 
seemed  to  keep  the  mastery  of  her  heart. 
Everyone  who  came  near  her  had  to  pay 
heavily  for  the  privilege,  but  no  one  was 
found  to  assert  that  he  had  been  able  to  buy 
more  than  a  pretty  woman  may  frankly  sell. 
Let  us  not  be  too  credulous,  but  let  us  not 
swsrve  from  that  Charybdis  into  the  Scylla 
of  cynicism. 

Meanwhile  one  thing  is  certain — Letitia's 
relations  with  her  three  friends  had  not  been 
altered  by  her  prosperity  by  so  much  as  the 
twitter  of  a  frog's  eyelash,  as  Polydore  ex- 
pressed it.  She  knew  to  whose  schooling  it 
was  that  she  owed  her  elevation,  and  she 
had  the  greatness  of  soul  to  choose  the  gold 
of  sterling  friendship  to  any  other  kind.  Her 
hosts  of  this  evening  never  knew  what  glit- 


i 70  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

tering  worship  she  had  cast  aside  for  the  sake 
of  this  Sunday  spree  in  the  obscure  little  res- 
taurant, and  Letitia  never  so  much  as  thought 
of  telling  them.  She  threw  herself  into  the 
moment  with  her  characteristic  vigor,  and 
rejoiced  with  childlike  glee  that  no  one,  ex- 
cept her  entertainers,  recognized  her,  or  knew 
where  she  was.  She  had  given  the  slip  even 
to  her  duenna,  for  the  vicarious  monopoly 
of  whose  formidable  virtues  she  paid  $20  a 
week. 

They  got  a  secluded  table  in  a  corner  of 
the  loggia,  where  the  newly  budded  branches 
of  an  elm-tree  screened  them  from  back  win- 
dows, and  where  Letitia  could  present  her 
back — more  lively  and  expressive  than  the 
fronts  of  most  women — to  such  of  the  public 
as  might  find  their  way  to  the  other  loggia 
tables.  She  was  dressed  in  what  she  called 
a  plain  black  frock ;  perhaps  it  was  the 
woman  inside  it  that  made  it  seem  like  the 
last  triumph  of  Parisian  genius  ;  and  the  lit- 
tle black  bonnet,  with  its  crisp  white  ruche, 
made  a  frame  for  her  brilliant  and  mischiev- 
ous little  visage  that  added  a  tang  to  it  like 
that  of  kisses  stolen  in  church.  The  air  was 
so  soft  and  still  that  even  Polydore  (who 
watched  over  her  with  the  solicitude  of  a 


AN  ITALIAN  INTERLUDE  171 

one-chicken  hen)  could  pretend  no  need  of 
safeguards  for  her  invaluable  glottis. 

"  Why,  Horace,  if  you  don't  look  like  one 
of  those  college  football  players  with  all  that 
hair  !  "  exclaimed  she.  "  Doesn't  it  bother 
you  getting  into  your  eyes  ?  Do  you  comb 
it  yourself,  or  do  you  keep  a  maid  ?  " 

"The  poet  says,"  remarked  Gabriel, 
"  that  '  Love  lends  a  precious  seeing  to  the 
eye. '  Guess  you  must  be — pretty — far — gone 
on  Horace.  Wish  you'd  take  a  look  at  my 
bank  account,  some  day  when  you  ain't 
busy ;  maybe  you'd  be  able  to  see  a  bal- 
ance !  " 

"  She's  making  my  fortune,  though  I 
don't  let  her  know  it,"  said  Polydore.  "  I 
had  three  new  applicants  this  week  for  me 
to  make  'em  sing  like  Letitia  Valentine." 

"  Any  of 'em  any  good?  "  asked  Horace, 
munching  a  biscuit  stick. 

"  One  of 'em's  got  something  like  a  voice, 
if  she  hadn't  hurt  it  by  the  fool  training  she's 
had.  She's  a  darned  good-looking  gal,  but 
she  belongs  to  that  rotten  swell  set  that  think 
the  sun  rises  to  see  them  pick  their  teeth." 

"  Ain't  you  disgusting  !  "  sighed  Letitia, 
pensively.  "  What  does  a  girl  like  that 
want  with  learning  singing,  anyway  ?  " 


172  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  Oh,  some  yarn  about  wanting  to  be  in- 
dependent. The  old  folks  are  for  having 
her  marry  some  beggar  she  don't  fancy,  and 
she's  got  her  eye  on  somebody  else,  I  reckon, 
and  wants  to  cut  loose.  It's  none  of  my 
business,  as  long  as  she  planks  up  her  $5  an 
hour,  but  these  kind  of  chaps  that  come  lal- 
lygagging  round  engaged  gals  are  mostly  the 
ones  that  don't  take  much  stock  in  spooning 
without  it's  stealing,  too  !  " 

"  If  it  ain't  an — indiscreet  question,  Poly, 
who — might — she  be  ?  "  Gabriel  inquired. 

"  She  had  a  name  as  long  as  my  leg.  I 
forget — hold  on,  it'll  be  in  my  book  !  "  and 
he  began  rooting  in  his  many  voluminous 
pockets. 

Meanwhile  Horace,  who  in  some  respects 
was  uncomfortably  fastidious,  was  wiping  his 
plate  with  his  napkin  and  scrutinizing  it  side- 
long to  detect  traces  of  unauthorized  matter. 
He  explained  to  Letitia,  who  expressed  a 
curiosity  on  the  subject,  that  he  and  Gaetano 
were  close  friends,  and  that  he  had  stipulated 
for  this  privilege,  in  return  for  which  he 
brought  angels  like  herself  to  glorify  the  res- 
taurant. 

"  Sharingbourne  —  that's  what  she  calls 
herself,"  Polydore  announced, lifting  his  nose 


AN  ITALIAN  INTERLUDE  173 

from  the  pages  of  the  notebook  in  which  he 
had  buried  it.      "  Isabella  Sharingbourne. " 

Horace  dropped  his  plate  and  looked  up. 
"  Why,  she's  Murgy's  girl  !  "  said  he. 

"  Murgy's  girl?  My  little  Murgy's,  that 
I'm  keeping  to  settle  down  with  in  my  old 
age  ?  If  any  girl  meddles  with  him  I'll  bite 
her  !  "  exclaimed  Letitia,  looking  fierce,  like 
a  torn-tit  threatened  by  a  sparrow. 

"  But  Poly  says  she's  going  to — shake — 
Murgy  and  take  up  with — t'other  chap  ;  so, 
if  you've  no  other — use — for  it,  I'd  like  that 
— bite — myself!  "  drawled  Gabriel. 

The  prima  donna  went  on  without  notic- 
ing this  gallantry.  "  It's  like  her  impu- 
dence, too,  to  prefer  somebody  else  to  my 
Murgy  !  Good-looking,  is  she  ? — she'll  look 
like  the  tattooed  woman  in  the  dime  museum 
when  I'm  through  with  her  !  " 

"  I'd  give  a  lock  of  my  hair  to  be  sure  you 
were  right  about  that,  Poly,"  said  Horace, 
rubbing  his  eyeglasses  with  his  handkerchief. 
"  Who  is  the  other  fellow  ?  " 

Polydore  shook  his  head. 

Suddenly  Letitia  smote  her  little  palms  to- 
gether and  half  jumped  from  her  chair. 

"  I'll  bet  my  garters  I  know  !  "  cried  she. 
"  Tell  me,  Poly — ain't  the  Sharingbourne 


174  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

girl  tall,  with  dark  hair,  and  carries  herself 
like  this — as  if  the  Lord's  earth  ought  to  be 
sugar-coated  before  she'd  put  her  foot  on  it  ?  " 

"I  guess  you've  spotted  her,  my  love," 
said  Polydore,  with  a  grin,  for  the  actress's 
caricature  of  Isabella's  coolly  confident  de- 
meanor was  masterly. 

"Well,  then,  boys,"  she  continued,  "the 
other  fellow,  if  you  please,  is  nobody  else 
but  that  black-eyed,  long-haired  gawk  that 
wrote  my  opera — Dev  Scaramanga  himself! 
Ah,  didn't  I  see  'em  together  in  the  stage 
box  at  rehearsal  one  day  !  Dev  Scaramanga  ! 
— I  think  I  know  him — just  a  little  bit ! 
And  I  see  her  game !  Throw  over  Murgy 
and  his  millions  ?  Not  much  !  She  means 
to  have  her  cake  and  eat  it,  too.  Oh  !  I 
don't  mind  a  little  larking  myself,  but  I  play 
fair — I  don't  stack  the  cards — I  don't  believe 
in  singing  two  duets  at  the  same  time  !  Well, 
now,  you  hear  me  say  that  Miss  Isabella  don't 
marry  Murgy — mind,  you  hear  me  say  it ! 
And  you  needn't  screw  up  that  elephant's 
trunk  of  yours,  Master  Poly.  I  can  do  with- 
out Murgy,  and  his  money,  too.  But  I  like 
him,  same  as  I  like  all  of  you  fellows,  and  he 
shan't  be  made  a  fool  of — you  hear  me? " 

These   sentiments   met    with  general  ap- 


AN  ITALIAN   INTERLUDE  175 

plause.  "  Good  for  the  little  woman  !  "  ex- 
claimed Horace;  "she's  a  prima  donna  in 
other  ways  besides  singing.  We'll  break 
Murgy's  nasty  engagement  off!  " 

"  Strikes  me  it's  been  a — little — mite — 
long  already,"  remarked  the  astrologer. 

"  Get  her  birthday  date,  Poly,"  said  Leti- 
tia,  "and  then  Gabe  can  settle  the  whole 
thing !  " 

"  You  can  get  at  hers,  pretty  close,  from 
Murgy's,  can't  you,  Gabe?"  asked  Poly- 
dore. 

"  Well,"  returned  the  soothsayer,  chewing 
meditatively  on  a  piece  of  stewed  chicken, 
"  I  might  make  a — stagger  at  it.  Let's  see 
— yes — well — I  tell  you  what,  boys — it  looks 
to  me  now,  as  if  she'd  pretty — near — get — 
him  !  " 

For  once,  Horace  opposed  his  friend. 
"  Letty's  as  big  a  star  as  any  of  'em,"  said 
he,  "  and  her  aspect  is  favorable  to  the  na- 
tive. We'll  have  to  count  her  in !  " 

Gabriel  contemplated  Horace,  with  his 
head  tipped  over  to  one  side.  "There's 
one  funny  thing  about  Murgy's  horoscope," 
said  he;  "I  noticed  it,  first  time  I  cast 
it.  He'd  ought  to  have  died  when  he  was 
about  seven  weeks  old  ;  how  he  came  to  live 


1 76  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

through  it  is  what  I — never — could — under- 
stand !  " 

"  Oh,  I  guess  astrology  ain't  everything," 
Letitia  declared. 

' '  That  was  about  the  cutest  thing  you  ever 
said,  Gabe,"  Horace  observed  at  the  same 
moment. 

The  two  men  exchanged  a  peculiar  look. 
"I  thought  it  might  be  that  way,"  Gabriel 
said,  as  if  to  himself,  finishing  his  chicken 
and  pouring  out  a  glass  of  wine. 

"I'll  tell  you  by  and  by,"  said  Horace, 
taking  an  opportunity  when  Letitia  and 
Polydore  were  engaged  over  the  upsetting  of 
a  salt-cellar.  Gabriel  assented  with  a  move- 
ment of  the  eyebrows,  and  the  waiter  came 
in  with  the  salad.  Then  Signer  Gaetano  ap- 
peared, to  pass  the  compliments  of  the  even- 
ing. 

"  How's  business,  Illustrissimo  ?  "  Horace 
asked. 

"  Ah,  Eccellenza  !  She  come  and  she  go  ! 
We  make-a  as  we  can !  New  faces — old 
faces;  but  the  old  are  best,  non  e  vero?  " 

"That's  according  to  how  they  pay  up, 
ain't  it?  "  said  the  sordid  Polydore. 

The  Signer's  facile  shoulders  rose.  "  Ze 
mon'  eez  necessar' ,  oh,  si !  ma — Santo  Dia- 


AN   ITALIAN   INTERLUDE  177 

volo  !  I  not-a  like  zome  face  more  as  1  like 
zeir  mon'.  Eef  il  Signer  Horatio  geev  him 
ze  pain  to  teep  his  chair — so — mi  lie  grazie  ! — 
he  zee  ze  two  signori  at  ze  table  zrou  ze  win- 
dow ;  questi !  signori,  zey  pay  zeir  mon',  zey 
make-a  no  trouble  ;  but  I  no  like-a,  no  trust-a, 
no  want-a." 

Horace,  tilting  back  his  chair,  had  caught 
a  glimpse  of  two  men,  an  old  and  a  middle- 
aged  one,  conferring  deeply  over  their  cheese 
and  celery.  He  righted  his  chair  with  a 
thump.  "  How  long  have  they  been  coming 
here?"  he  asked. 

' '  One  week — two  week — chi  lo  sa  !  Eef 
ze  signori  air  of  Eccellenza's  acquaint- 

"  Caro  mio,  we  doctors  know  everybody, 
but  we  don't  always  recognize  'em — capite? 
Send  us  some  cigarettes,  there's  a  dear,  and 
present  our  compliments  to  la  bella  Signorina, 
la  vostra  sposa.  That's  about  all  the  Italian 
I  know,  old  boy  ;  buona  sera — addio  !  ' ' 

Slowly  the  rosy  flood  ebbed  in  the  round- 
bellied  flask ;  it  is  astonishing  how  much 
these  flasks  hold,  after  you  make  sure  they 
are  empty  !  The  four  friends  looked  amia- 
bly upon  one  another,  smiling  out  of  mere 
mutual  good-will.  Polydore,  by  the  aid  of 


178  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

a  napkin  and  three  fingers,  illustrated  in  ex- 
cruciating pantomime  the  miseries  of  "  Gae- 
tano  at  home ;  ' '  time,  a  hot  July  night ; 
mosquitoes  in  the  air,  fleas  in  the  bed.  The 
spectators  rocked  with  laughter  at  the  amaz- 
ing verisimilitude  of  the  scratchings,  tossings, 
and  frenzies  of  the  pigmy  sufferer.  Then 
Gabriel,  who  was  an  accomplished  magician, 
as  well  as  soothsayer,  borrowed  a  pin  from 
Letitia,  and  after  making  it  pass  through  a 
bewildering  series  of  adventures  and  meta- 
morphoses, finally  conjured  it  through  the 
table  into  an  empty  wine-glass  held  under- 
neath by  Letitia  herself.  The  glass  upon 
examination  was  found  to  contain,  not  the 
pin,  but  a  beautiful  little  gold  enamelled 
Egyptian  divinity,  a  unique  ancient  talis- 
man and  protection  against  all  evil  chance. 
Under  Gabriel's  directions  Letitia  pressed  a 
concealed  spring,  the  divinity  opened  down 
the  back,  and  out  fell  a  little  roll  of  parch- 
ment, on  which  was  a  miniature  drawing  of 
the  prima  donna's  horoscope,  with  the  com- 
pliments of  the  Triumvirate ! 

"  Well,"  said  she,  with  an  unusual  liquid- 
ness  in  her  voice  and  her  eyes,  "it's  the 
sweetest  thing  I  ever  saw,  except  you,  and 
Horace,  and  Poly  —  and  poor  Murgy  !  ' ' 


AN  ITALIAN  INTERLUDE  179 

And  she  hastily  dried  her  eyes  with  her 
handkerchief,  laughed  absurdly,  kissed  the 
divinity  (with  a  glance  at  the  three  friendly 
faces  which  made  each  feel  that  he  had  been 
made  partaker  of  the  salute),  and  finally  put 
it  in  her  bosom,  at  which  there  was  a  gen- 
eral sentimental  sigh  ! 

"Come,  Horace,  get  a  move  on  your- 
self !  ' '  then  said  Polydore.  ' '  Do  something 
to  amuse  the  lady." 

" I'm  a  doctor;  all  I  can  do  is  to  cure 
her  when  she  gets  out  of  order.  But  the 
talisman  will  prevent  that — eh,  my  dear  ?  ' ' 

"I'll  be  sick  on  purpose  sooner  than  not 
have  you  cure  me,"  said  she;  "just  wait  till 
my  season's  over  and  you'll  see  !  " 

Horace's  eyes  met  hers  for  a  moment ; 
she  colored  and  he  smiled. 

They  all  sat  quiet  for  a  while,  enjoying 
the  soft  air  and  the  gathering  night.  At  last 
Polydore,  who  never  kept  silent  long,  en- 
tered into  a  discussion  with  Letitia  on  some 
professional  topic,  and  then  Gabriel  and 
Horace,  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  got 
their  heads  together  and  conversed  in  mur- 
murs. 

' '  Yes,  I  guess  it  must  be  something  that 
way,"  said  Gabriel,  after  a  while.  "But 


180  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

the  will's  all  right,  ain't  it  ? — the  boy  gets 
the  property,  whoever  he  is  ?  " 

Horace  nodded.  "  He's  the  heir,  what- 
ever happens. ' ' 

"  But  he  doesn't  suspect  that — little — ir- 
regularity in  his  parentage,  eh  ?  " 

".No,  and  that's  what  queers  the  whole 
thing  !  "  muttered  the  other,  between  his 
teeth.  "  If  he  knew,  I'd  have  my  hands 
free  and  could  make  things  hum.  But 
neither  I  nor  any  of  the  other  people  that 
know  it  dare  tell  him  ;  and  so  everything's 
tied  up." 

"You — daren't — tell  him  !  Come,  that's 
something  new,  to  see  you  scared  !  What's 
the  trouble?" 

"  Well,  it's  this  way.  For  some  reason — 
I  don't  know  what — he  got  the  idea,  some- 
where about  the  time  they  both  died,  that 
his  father  and  mother — as  he  thought  them 
— were  about  the  best  folks  living.  I've 
nothing  against  Mrs.  Whiterduce  ;  I  expect 
she  may  have  been  all  right,  though  I  know 
she  didn't  believe  Murgy  was  her  son,  and 
did  believe  he  was  Pynchepole's  by  another 
mother.  As  for  Pynchepole,  he  was  a  big- 
ger rascal  than  most  people  know.  I  found 
him  out  a  few  years  back,  and  you  know 


AN  ITALIAN   INTERLUDE  181 

what  happened  in  the  club.  He  never  fol- 
lowed it  up,  of  course.  I  wish  he  had  !  He 
humbugged  everybody,  and  toward  the  end 
he  must  have  humbugged  his  wife,  too  ;  for, 
according  to  Murgy,  she  was  sending  him 
affectionate  messages  on  the  very  day  he  was 
killed.  Anyway,  Murgy  believes  'em  both 
angels,  and  he  has  set  out  to  make  himself 
worthy  of  them,  as  he  calls  it.  To  do  that 
he's  been  getting  himself  educated  at  a  rate 
that  nothing  else  would  ever  stir  him  to ; 
he's  making  a  man  of  himself ;  he's  devel- 
oping a  mind  and  a  character  that  I,  for 
one,  never  thought  was  in  him,  and  you 
know  that  nobody  stands  up  for  Murgy  more 
than  I  do.  I  love  the  boy.  One  reason 
may  be  because  I  hated  Pynchepole,  but 
there's  something  natural  and  sweet  about 
Murgy  that  just  suits  me,  and  I  love  him, 
and  I'll  do  what  I  can  for  him  any  time. 
Now,  you  see,  if  I  was  to  go  to  him  and  tell 
him  he  was  no  more  a  Whiterduce  than  I 
am,  it  would  make  him  damned  unhappy, 
and  would  do  him  harm.  He'd  feel  as  if 
he'd  been  made  an  orphan  over  again,  and 
in  a  worse  way  than  the  first ;  and  besides, 
he'd  be  humiliated  before  the  world  he  lives 
in  as  having  posed  as  a  swell  when  really  he 


1 82  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

came  out  of  the  gutter.  You  see  that,  don't 
you  ?  ' ' 

"Yes;  but  why  need  anybody  else 
know  ? ' ' 

"  Well,  if  there  was  no  other  reason,  be- 
cause Murgy'd  tell  them.  He'd  think  it  was 
his  duty  to  relieve  the  family  from  the  dis- 
credit of  having  such  a  boor  as  he  thinks  he 
is  for  the  head  of  the  house.  He  has  no 
more  egotism  than  a  dog.  But  it  would 
come  out  in  other  ways,  anyhow.  But  that's 
another  part  of  the  yarn. ' ' 

"And  as  for  Miss  Isabella,  I  sup- 
pose  ' ' 

"  The  first  good  bit  of  news  I've  heard 
was  that  about  her  to-night.  Whether  he 
ever  learns  who  he  is  or  not,  a  girl  like  that 
could  only  make  him  miserable.  But  if  she 
really  is  carrying  on  with  another  fellow, 
that's  a  way  out  of  one  scrape,  at  least.  It 
won't  take  me  long  to  find  out  how  that 
is." 

"Well,  now,  look  here,  my  dear,"  said 
Gabriel,  slowly.  "My  idea  is — I  may  be 
wrong,  most  likely  am — but  it  does  strike 
me  that  you're  making  a  mountain  out  of 
a  molehill.  I  like  Murgy  mighty  well  my- 
self. Don't  know  just  why,  but  I  do. 


AN  ITALIAN  INTERLUDE  183 

Don't  seem  to  be  so  much  what  comes  out 
of  him  as  that  you  feel  there's  something 
good  in  him — and  natural,  as  you  say.  But 
I  don't  think  he'd  feel  bad  to  know  what  he 
is.  I  think  likely  he'd  feel  relieved.  As 
for  his  education  and  discipline,  he'd  keep 
what  he's  got  already,  I  suppose,  and  maybe 
that's  enoxigh.  And  then  again,  a  thing 
like  that  is  always  pretty  sure  to  get  out 
some  time,  and  it's  better  it  should  come 
now,  and  come  from  you,  than  any  other 
way  or  time.  That's  the  way  I  look  at  it, 
and  if  you  ain't  got  any  reasons  besides 
what  you've  told  me,  I  should  say  don't 
get  too  fine  strung  over  it,  but  sail  right  in 
and  plump  the  whole  thing  right  out  on 
him." 

"  I  haven't  told  you  all  the  reasons,  Gabe. 
I  haven't  touched  the  bottom  reason  of  the 
lot.  And  this  isn't  the  place  for  doing  it. 
But  you  recollect,  just  now,  Gaetano's  speak- 
ing about  two  queer  guests  of  his  that  he 
didn't  like  the  looks  of?  Well,  I  took  a 
look  at  'em,  and  I  know  them  both.  One 
was  that  fellow  Hemynge,  whom  Murgy 
found  out  in  a  defalcation  about  a  year  ago, 
but  didn't  prosecute  because  he'd  been  his 
father's  man — that  is,  Pynchepole's  ;  and 


1 84  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

the  other — lean  over    this  way — the   other 

was  Murgy's  real  father " 

"  You — don't — say  so  !  " 
"  And  Pynchepole's  murderer  !  " 
"  Say,  are  you  two  old  stupids  singing 
each  other  to  sleep  over  there  ?  ' '  came  the 
clear  warble  of  Letitia's  voice.  "  Do  you 
know  what  time  it  is?  I'm  going  home; 
and  all  of  you  have  got  to  come  along  with 
me,  for  I  won't  trust  any  of  you  alone  ! 
And  we're  going  to  walk,  just  like  old 
times ;  so  uncouple  yourselves  and  come 
along  !  ' ' 

"All  ready,  most  alluring  of  your  sex  !  " 
returned  Horace,  with  cheerful  briskness. 
"  Been  waiting  for  you  to  get  through  spoon- 
ing with  Poly — that's  all !  He  seems  to  be 
a  Poly-gone  on  you,  this  evening !  How's 
that  for  off-hand  ?  If  you  catch  cold  going 
home  and  get  a  frog  in  your  throat,  he'll  be 
your  Poly-wog,  won't  he?  If  we  all  go 
home  with  you,  though,  it'll  be  a  case  of 
Poly-andry ;  but  if  you  live  in  Poly-nesia, 
that'll  be  quite  in  the  fashion.  However,  I 
don't  want  to  have  the  mono-Poly  of  the 
conversation ;  I  always  practise  what  the 

French  call  Poly-tesse ' ' 

"Death   to  punsters  is  my  Poly-see!" 


AN   ITALIAN   INTERLUDE  185 

cried  Letitia,  snatching  up  the  last  of  the 
biscuit  sticks  and  plunging  it  in  his  breast ; 
and  as  nothing  could  be  devised  worse  than 
that,  they  sallied  forth,  laughing,  pursued 
by  the  blessings  of  Gaetano. 


CHAPTER  XI 

NEWS   FOR    MURGATROYD 

The  four  friends  walked  slowly  home,  in  a 
cluster,  through  the  lovely  night,  which 
made  its  pure  beauty  felt  even  amidst  the 
stone  and  iron  of  city  streets.  The  shops 
were  shut,  the  earth  dark ;  the  sky  gained 
power.  The  people  who  passed  them  were 
shadowy  and  phantasmal.  They  felt  them- 
selves islanded  in  the  vague  sea  of  existence 
and  enjoyed  the  fanciful  solitude. 

They  left  Letitia,  at  last,  under  the  lean 
wing  of  her  duenna,  promising  to  appear  all 
together  in  the  stage  box  the  next  evening. 
"  Good-night !  "  and  the  door  closed.  The 
three  men  strolled  down  to  the  corner. 
Polydore  did  one  of  his  spectacular  yawns. 
"I'm  going  to  bed,"  he  then  said.  "  You 
fellows  may  see  me  home,  if  you  like;  if 
not,  be  good  to  yourselves  !  " 

"You  two  are  coming  home  with  me," 
said  Horace,  in  a  voice  altered  from  the  idle 


NEWS  FOR  MURGATROYD  187 

jocoseness  of  the  half-hour  passed.  "  We've 
got  to  have  a  talk,  and  now's  a  good  time 
for  it." 

"I'm  talked  empty,"  objected  Poly- 
dore. 

"  Your  ears  ain't  any  smaller  than  usual, 
though,"  remarked  Gabriel,  slipping  his 
thick  arm  under  the  other's  bony  one ;  "so 
come  along  !  ' ' 

"Oh,  well,  if  there's  anything  up,"  said 
the  prophet  of  the  Method,  and  he  resigned 
himself  to  the  others. 

Nevertheless,  nothing  was  said  for  the 
next  fifteen  minutes,  by  the  end  of  which 
they  were  within  sight  of  Horace's  dwelling. 
He  occupied  two  or  three  rooms  in  the 
ground  floor  of  an  old  apartment  building. 
Someone  who  had  been  standing  within  the 
shadow  of  the  doorway  started  forward  as 
they  drew  near,  and  they  recognized  Mur- 
gatroyd. 

"  I'm  glad  you're  come,  I  can  tell  you  !  " 
he  exclaimed  ;  "I've  been  waiting  here  two 
hours.  They  told  me  you  were  out,  Hor- 
ace, and  I  thought  you  must  come  back 
some  time,  so  I  stayed  here." 

"  Why,  you  old  pet,  why  didn't  you 
wait  inside?  " 


1 88  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't  stand  it  !  I  had  to  be 
out-doors. ' ' 

"  What's  the  matter  ? — got  the  fever  ?  ' ' 

"  I've  got  something  I  must  tell  you — all 
of  you.  I'd  have  a  fever  if  I  didn't  !  You 
don't  mind?  " 

"  It's  just  what  we're  here  for,  I  guess," 
said  Horace,  unlocking  the  door  and  slap- 
ping him  on  the  shoulder.  "  Pile  in  there, 
the  gang  !  Cabinet  meeting,  all  hands  !  ' ' 

Horace's  rooms  were  bare,  dark,  and  empty 
of  everything  except  necessary  chairs  and 
tables,  and  a  few  professional  impedimenta, 
such  as  an  electric  machine.  The  doctor, 
when  alone,  lived  in  the  realm  of  his  own 
thoughts,  and  when  he  had  company,  he 
required  no  other  decoration  than  their 
presence  afforded. 

But  the  furniture,  what  there  was  of  it, 
was  of  a  substantial  sort :  massive  tables, 
cavernous  easy-chairs.  "  If  the  boys  want  to 
drink,"  said  Horace,  "  I  can  give  you  cherry 
brandy  and  water ;  and  here's  some  old  cig- 
arettes— Cubans — that  a  poor  devil  gave  me 
a  year  ago  when  I  cured  him  of  the  horrors. 
Sit  by,  now,  and  stick  your  feet  in  the  oven, 
as  we  used  to  say  up  in  New  Hampshire. 
Well,  Murgy,"  he  added,  as  he  turned  up 


NEWS  FOR  MURGATROYD  189 

the  gas,  "we've  not  seen  you  for  a  dog's 
age.  How  are  you?  You  look  as  fine  as 
silk!  " 

Murgatroyd  had  not  deteriorated  in  ap- 
pearance since  the  day  he  attained  his  ma- 
jority. His  face  was  thinner,  and  his  eyes 
had  more  light  and  purpose.  The  most 
noticeable  alteration  was  in  his  mouth ;  it 
was  more  controlled,  and  the  lips  met  in  a 
firmer  line.  Before,  he  had  looked  younger 
than  he  was ;  he  seemed  older  now.  But  he 
did  not  look  happier ;  his  boyish  jollity  was 
gone,  and  he  had  the  air  of  supporting  a 
burden.  Just  at  present  he  was  obviously 
worked  up  to  an  unusual  pitch  of  feeling. 

He  had  dropped  into  one  of  the  big  chairs 
at  first,  but  the  next  moment  he  jumped  up, 
took  a  turn  about  the  room,  and  finally  half 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"You  know  that  man,  Hemynge,"  he 
said,  addressing  the  words  to  Horace,  and 
then  including  the  others  in  his  glance.  "  I 
told  him  to  go,  and  that  I  never  wanted  to 
see  him  again.  But  I've  seen  him  to-day, 
and  he  told  me — something  !  " 

"  About  a  deficit  of  five  dollars?  "  asked 
Polydore,  archly. 

"  If  what  he  said  was  true,"  went  on  the 


190  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

young  man,  gathering  energy  as  he  spoke, 
"  it  will  be  as  if  I  hadn't  lived  at  all — was 
only  like  an  actor  in  a  play.  Only  I  thought 
the  play  was  real.  But  all  I've  thought  and 
done  and — it  was  a  big  sell — an  infernal 
humbug !  "  he  cried  out,  striking  his  fist  on 
the  table.  "  Here  I  am,  and  there's  noth- 
ing left  of  me  !  I  haven't  anything  to  re- 
member, or  to  think  of,  that  I  have  any 
business  with.  I'm  nothing — if  what  he 
told  me  is  so  !" 

Horace  and  Gabriel  exchanged  a  glance. 
Polydore  said:  "Then  you  may  bet  your 
bottom  dollar,  my  boy,  that  he's  been  tell- 
ing you  a  pack  of  damned  lies. ' ' 

"You  haven't  told  us  what  he  said  yet, 
Murgy,"  said  Gabriel,  in  his  self-possessed, 
imperturbable  drawl. 

"  He  said,  '  You're  no  Whiterduce.  Mr. 
Whiterduce  bought  you  of  a  woman  on  the 
street.  Your  father  was  a  thieving  Irish 
horse-jockey.  Whiterduce  paid  him  to  keep 
quiet  all  his  life,  but  you'll  have  to  pay  him 
now  or  he'll  blow  on  you.'  He  said,  'I've 
got  all  the  proofs  you  want,'  and  he  showed 
me  what  he  said  were  copies  of  papers.  He 
said  the  real  Whiterduce  boy  had  died  when 
he  was  a  baby,  but  there  had  to  be  an  heir, 


NEWS  FOR  MURGATROYD  191 

so  they  got  me.  He  said,  '  Whiterduce 
could  will  you  the  property,  but  that's  all  he 
could  do,  and  if  you  don't  settle  with  me  the 
whole  story  will  go  into  the  newspapers  day 
after  to-morrow.'  " 

"Well,  for  clear  gall,  Pa  Hemynge  takes 
the  cake,  don't  he?"  remarked  Polydore, 
fetching  his  breath.  All  this  was  as  new  to 
him  as  to  Murgatroyd,  but  it  did  not  so 
much  as  occur  to  him  to  put  credence  in  it. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  anything  else,  Murgy  ?  " 
Horace  asked  quietly.  "Any  names,  or 
anything  more  about  Mr.  Whiterduce?  " 

"  No ;  that  was  the  amount  of  it.  Then 
it  is  true  ? — and  you  knew  it,  Horace  ? 

"Ever  since  I  knew  you,  my  dear.  If 
you  had  been  Whiterduce' s  son  I  shouldn't 
have  wanted  your  acquaintance,  Murgy.  It 
was  your  not  being  that  that  made  me  begin 
caring  for  you.  I  don't  take  any  stock  in 
damned  aristocrats." 

"  Oh,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  you'd  have  been  happier 
to  know  it  ?  " 

"  And  my  mother  deceived  me,  too?  She 
wasn't  my  mother  ?  " 

"  Listen,  my  dear,"  said  Horace,  with  a 
peculiar  tenderness.  "You've  lost  nothing 


192  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

real.  If  the  woman  you  took  to  be  your 
mother  loved  you,  you  had  her  love,  and  this 
story  makes  no  difference  in  it.  If  you  like 
money  and  the  world  you  live  in  you've  got 
them  still ;  what  you  are  isn't  changed  by 
anything  Hemynge  told  you ;  nothing  can 
change  your  flesh  and  blood  and  soul — if  you 
think  you  have  a  soul.  Stick  to  what's  real, 
and  you'll  lose  nothing  that  a  fellow  of  some 
sense  would  care  to  keep.  If  you're  not  a 
Whiterduce,  what's  the  odds  ?  —  no  more 
were  you  yesterday  or  any  time.  All  the 
odds  is  that  now  you  know  it,  and  then  you 
didn't.  Up  to  now  your  friends  have  been 
keeping  a  secret  for  you ;  now  you've  got  to 
keep  it,  too.  The  worst  that  could  happen 
would  be  having  to  pay  those  blackguards 
hush-money,  but  maybe  we  can  stop  'em 
from  that  before  we've  done  with  'em. 
There's  a  good  deal  more  to  the  yarn  than 
Hemynge  thought  it  healthy  to  tell.  Our 
side  hasn't  had  an  innings  yet !  " 

"  What  you  say  about  mother's  true.  I 
didn't  think  of  that,"  said  Murgatroyd,  who 
had  listened  to  this  with  great  intentness. 
"  When  she  said  she  loved  me  she  must  have 
meant  it.  There  couldn't  have  been  any 
humbug  in  that.  It's  no  matter  if  I  call  her 


NEWS  FOR  MURGATROYD  193 

*  mother  '  before  you  fellows  ;  and  she  said, 
'  I'll  be  a  true  loving  mother  to  you.' 
She  said  that  the  last  time  she  spoke  to  me. 
She  kissed  me  without  my  ever  expecting 
such  a  thing.  She  must  have  meant  it,  and 
if  I  wasn't  really  her  own  son  she  must  have 
meant  it  all  the  more,  for,  of  course,  if  I 
had  been  her  own  son  she  would  have  cared 
for  me  as  a  matter  of  course,  without  think- 
ing anything  particular  about  it.  Isn't  that 
so  ?  Tell  me  if  it  isn't,  you  fellows,  because 
.  .  .  Her  loving  me  was  the  only  thing 
I  care  about !  "  he  cried  passionately,  tears 
breaking  through  his  voice.  "  She  did  love 
me  !  She  did  !  It  was  what  made  a  man 
of  me!  That's  why  I've  been  working  and 
studying,  so  as  to  deserve  it.  If  that  was  a 
lie,  everything's  a  lie  !  You're  liars  !  And 
I  won't  live!  Tell  me!  Tell  me!  Tell 
me  the  truth  !  "  His  voice,  with  its  savage 
eagerness,  rang  in  the  room,  where  the  others 
sat  so  silent.  His  face  looked  dark  and  red, 
and  his  head  was  thrust  forward.  His  fists 
were  doubled  and  his  half-bent  arms  vibrated 
spasmodically  as  the  words  went  from  him. 

But  it  was  not  for  nothing  that  he  had 
governed  and  disciplined  himself  these  latter 
months.  Even  at  this  headlong  moment  he 


194  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

made  an  effort  over  himself  like  that  of  an 
athlete  struggling  to  be  free  from  the  con- 
striction of  a  serpent.  With  a  downward 
drive  of  the  arms  he  seemed  to  thrust  the 
savage  to  his  feet. 

He  stood  panting  for  a  moment,  then 
turned,  walked  to  his  chair,  and  sat  down 
in  it. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  fellows,"  said  he. 
"I'm  not  her  son.  Remember  !  I'm  a 
beast,  trying  to  make  myself  a  man.  If  you 
only  knew  how  hard  it  was.  .  .  .  But 
I  mean  to  be  a  man  for  her  sake,  though  I'm 
not  her  son." 

"  By  God,  old  fellow,  you  are  a  man  ! 
You've  got  the  stuff !  "  said  Polydore,  with 
emphasis.  "  Why,  I'd  no  notion  of  this !  " 

"  Horace  is  the  only  one  that  knows  the 
story,"  said  Gabriel.  "We  came  over 
here  to  hear  it.  Tell  us  how  we  can  beat 
'em  on  the  hush-money  business,  Horace." 

"  That  won't  be  any  trouble,"  Murgatroyd 
observed.  "  I'm  not  going  to  pay  any  hush- 
money.  Now  that  I  know  the  thing's  true 
I  don't  care  who  else  knows  it.  Why,  I 
used  to  be  ashamed  because  I  wasn't  fit  to 
be  a  Whiterduce,  and  now  that  I  know  I'm 
not  I'll  take  care  everybody  knows  it.  I 


NEWS  FOR  MURGATROYD  195 

won't  wait  for  Hemynge  to  tell.  People 
must  have  been  wondering  all  this  time  how 
such  a  woman  as  my  mother  came  to  have 
such  a  son.  I  always  wondered  myself. 
I'm  glad  I  can  show  'em  now  that  it  isn't 
so  !  God  bless  her  !  I  can  do  that  for  her, 
anyhow  !  " 

"There's  nothing  in  you  she  need  be 
ashamed  of,  dear,"  said  Horace,  gently. 
"  But  no  matter  about  that.  Be  sure  you're 
making  no  mistake  about  wanting  this 
known.  Most  people  would  give  all  they 
have  to  stand  where  you  are.  The  reputa- 
tion of  good  birth  will  do  what  money  can't. 
You  can  lose  money,  and  make  it  again,  but 
you  can't  get  back  a  birthright." 

"  Murgy,  you'd  best  take  time  to  think  it 
over,"  said  Gabriel.  "There  ain't  any 
hurry.  Just  have  a  good  sleep  over  it,  and 
see  how  you  feel  in  the  morning.  Don't 
worry  about  Hemynge.  He'll  wait !  I 
guess  there  ain't  anybody  more  anxious  to 
keep  it  dark  than  he  is,  seeing  it's  his  in- 
come !  The  day  it  comes  out  he'll  have  to 
begin  earning  an  honest  living  or  starve. 
So  do  you  take  a  good  look  over  it  and 
make  up  your  mind  sure  and  easy  !  " 

"That's  so,  Murgy,"   added   Polydore, 


196  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

earnestly.  "  Don't  you  do  any  darned 
foolishness.  It's  none  of  other  folks'  busi- 
ness that  you  ain't  a  Whiterduce.  Horace 
and  Gabe  and  I  like  you  all  the  better  for  it, 
but  others  ain't  like  us.  It's  all  right  for 
you  to  get  around  and  have  larks  with  us 
once  in  a  while,  but  if  you  found  the  fellows 
up  at  the  club  were  making  mouths  at  you 
behind  your  back  you  mightn't  like  it  so 
well.  You've  got  both  sides  of  the  game 
now,  and  you'd  better  keep  on  that  way." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  Murgatroyd  said, 
"I  guess  you  don't  know  the  way  I  feel.  I 
like  to  be  whatever  I  am.  It  was  all  right 
before  I  knew  I  was  counterfeit ;  but  I  can't 
go  on  with  it  now  that  I  do  know.  Hush- 
money  to  keep  it  dark !  I'd  pay  all  I've 
got — if  I  could  manage  it  no  other  way — to 
make  it  known  !  Not  that  I  wish  I'd  been 
brought  up  a  street  beggar  or  thief ;  and  I 
might  better  have  been  dead  than  never 
have  heard  her — my  mother — say  she  loved 
me ;  and  I  hope  to  keep  whatever  good  I've 
got  from  studying,  and  all  that.  But,  you 
see,  fellows,  there's  nothing  for  me  to  think 
over,  and  only  one  possible  thing  to  do,  and 
the  sooner  I  do  it  the  happier  I'll  be." 

"  Then  I'll  say  I  think  you're  just  right  !  " 


NEWS  FOR  MURGATROYD  197 

said  Horace,  sitting  even  more  erect  than 
usual;  "and  now  we  can  go  ahead  and 
make  a  clean  sweep  of  all  this  deviltry.  I've 
been  aching  to  get  at  the  job  these  four  years  ! 
Flowers  come  out  of  rottenness,  Murgy,  and 
so  have  you.  No  matter  about  the  woman 
that  gave  birth  to  you — she's  dead  long 
since  ;  but  the  creature  that  begot  you  is  fit 
for  nothing  but  the  gallows,  and  that's  what 
he'll  get.  It  was  he  killed  Whiterduce,  after 
blackmailing  him  for  twenty  years.  I'  ve  had 
it  on  my  mind  ever  since,  and  neither  he  nor 
Risdon  nor  anybody  else  suspected  it ;  be- 
cause I  made  up  my  mind,  if  I  could  never 
tell  you,  to  tell  nobody.  But  the  decision 
you've  made  to-night  will  hang  that  man ; 
and  I  hope  you  won't  regret  it !  " 

"He  the  murderer!"  muttered  Murga- 
troyd.  He  sat  silent  for  a  while,  staring  into 
the  gloom  beyond  the  gaslight.  It  was  a 
grim  thought — that  by  his  agency  the  man 
through  whom  he  had  received  life  was  to 
suffer  death  ! 

But  there  was  a  terrible  realism,  or  natu- 
ralism, about  this  young  man.  He  did  not 
take  the  conventional  or  sentimental  view. 
As  his  true  mother  was  not  the  woman  who 
had  given  him  birth,  so  he  attached  nothing 


198  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

of  sanctity  to  the  thought  of  the  man  whose 
selfish  and  vagrant  impulse  had  called  him 
into  existence  and  given  him  no  further  care. 
Murgatroyd  had  cast  off  the  tyranny  of  names 
and  formulas. 

"  It's  right,"  he  said  at  last.  "  If  mur- 
derers must  hang,  I  ought  to  hang  him.  He 
ruined  a  woman  to  beget  me ;  then  he  made 
me  the  pretext  for  robbery  and  murder.  It's 
right  that  I  should  bring  about  his  punish- 
ment, too  !  ' ' 

None  of  the  three  listeners  ever  forgot  the 
tone  and  look  with  which  Murgatroyd  pro- 
nounced these  words.  They  were  the  sen- 
tence of  death  not  upon  the  murderer  only, 
but  upon  his  own  youth  as  well.  They 
marked  the  stern,  inevitable  recognition  of 
spiritual  realities  which  the  evil  of  the  world 
imposes  on  all  who  advance  beyond  the 
merely  instinctive  and  animal  stage  of  being. 

"  He's  right !  "  said  Gabriel,  nodding  his 
head  slowly. 

"  There's  no  getting  round  it !  "  assented 
Polydore,  with  a  sigh. 

"I  wish  I'd  killed  the  scoundrel  myself 
first  and  told  Murgy  about  it  afterward  !  " 
said  Horace,  between  his  teeth.  "  But  he's 
right,  all  the  same.  And  now,  fellows,  be- 


NEWS  FOR  MURGATROYD  199 

fore  I  open  up  the  inside  of  this  thing  I 
propose  we  have  in  Blackmer  Risdon.  I 
came  to  know  Risdon  pretty  well  a  year  ago, 
and  he's  an  honest  chap,  as  men  go.  He  has 
an  eye  to  business,  but  he  wants  to  do  the 
square  thing,  too.  He'd  have  got  to  the 
bottom  of  this  puzzle  long  ago  if  he  could 
have  got  me  to  give  him  a  hint ;  and  it's  to 
his  credit  that  he  didn't  force  my  hand — some 
men  would  have  tried  it.  He  knew  I  knew 
the  secret,  and  to  know  such  secrets  doesn't 
improve  one's  own  reputation ;  but  Risdon 
never  took  advantage  of  that.  The  best  way 
to  bring  out  the  yarn  is  through  his  paper  ; 
and  he  deserves  whatever  good  it'll  do  him. 
So,  if  you're  agreeable,  I'll  send  a  messen- 
ger-boy to  the  Constitution  office — it's  close 
by — and  Risdon  will  be  here  in  ten  min- 
utes. ' ' 


CHAPTER   XII 

SOCIETY    ETHICS 

"  Where  are  you  going,  my  dear  ?  ' '  asked 
Mrs.  Sharingbourne,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  meeting  her  daughter  coming  down 
stairs  with  her  bonnet  on. 

"  To  take  a  walk  around  the  Park  with 
Sabina  Estengrewe. " 

"A  walk  so  soon  after  breakfast?  That 
hasn't  been  your  habit,  Isabella.  And  I 
don't  see  how  this  intimacy  with  Sabina  can 
be  of  any  use  or  benefit  to  you.  A  girl 
whose  elder  sister  would  commit  such  a  dis- 
graceful folly  as  Aurelia  did — and  who  lect- 
ures over  the  country  herself — I  don't  ap- 
prove of  it !  " 

"Remember,  mamma,  that  the  Church  has 
washed  away  the  sins  of  the  family  and  made 
them  white  as  snow.  No  girls  can  be  unre- 
spectable,  no  matter  what  they  do,  whose 
aunt  has  been  wedded  to  Mr.  Agabag." 

"  You  know,  Isabella,  that  I  have  always 
considered  Mr.  Agabag  to  be  a  fool." 


SOCIETY  ETHICS  201 

"  But  not  for  marrying  a  person  who  had 
money,  mamma!  " 

"It  is  unpardonable  for  a  man  to  make 
himself  ridiculous,  as  Agabag  did  by  marry- 
ing a  woman  old  enough  to  be  his  mother. 
Her  money  is  not  an  argument,  for  there  are 
plenty  of  rich  girls  whom  he  might  have  had. 
No  doubt  he  counted  on  soon  being  a  wid- 
ower ;  but  that  is  far  from  certain.  Semi- 
imbeciles  like  Mrs.  Jellicoe  often  live  to  a 
great  age.  And  she  will  always  be  round  his 
neck  wherever  he  goes,  and  he  can  have  no 
more  interviews  in  his  private  study  with 
pretty  young  penitents.  He  made  the  mis- 
take of  his  life,  and  her  money  will  never 
compensate  him  for  it.  Had  the  sexes  been 
reversed,  it  would  have  been  another  thing. 
No  girl  becomes  ridiculous  by  marrying  a 
rich  man  of  any  age.  Girls  cannot  support 
themselves ' ' 

"  Isn't  that  an  exaggeration,  mamma  ?  Sa- 
bina  gets  twenty-five  dollars  a  night  in  the 
season,  and  the  young  lady  who  is  singing  in 
Mr.  Scaramanga's  opera " 

"  I  am  not  speaking  of  girls  who  compro- 
mise their  social  position,  or  who  never  had 
any.  My  dear,  you  have  theories,  but  I 
have  experience.  In  my  own  case,  I  suffered 


202  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

by  a  misfortune,  not  a  fault.  Mr.  Sharing- 
bourne  was  wealthy  when  he  married  me,  but 
he  lost  his  fortune,  and  then  died.  But  you 
know  how  hard  it  has  been  for  us  to  make 
ends  meet.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  kind- 
ness of  friends  you  could  not  have  gone  to 
college,  or,  for  that  matter,  be  about  to 
marry  the  richest  young  man  in  town.  Why 
does  not  he  accompany  you  in  your  walks?  " 

"  Probably  he  detests  me  as  much  as  I  do 
him ' ' 

"  Why  should  you  detest  a  man  who  has 
no  bad  qualities  and  whom  you  can  turn 
round  your  finger  ?  For  Heaven's  sake,  Isa- 
bella, do  nothing  indiscreet  in  relation  to 
Murgatroyd.  Indiscretions  of  any  sort, 
either  before  or  after  marriage,  are  unpar- 
donable and  useless.  You  gain  nothing  and 
you  risk  everything." 

"  Do  I  understand  that  you  object  to  in- 
trigues after  marriage,  mamma  ?  Surely  if  I 
can  twist  my  husband  round  my  finger  it 
would  be  foolish  of  me  not  to  turn  my  power 
to  my  advantage !  A  woman  with  a  nin- 
compoop husband  needs  variety,  and  need 
run  no  risk  in  having  it.  Besides,  society 
helps  her,  because  they  all  do  it." 

"  My  dear,  I  think  it  vulgar  to  say  such 


SOCIETY  ETHICS  203 

things.  I  don't,  of  course,  imagine  that  you 
think  them.  No  woman  of  good  society  ad- 
mits serious  attentions  from  a  man  not  her 
husband,  not  only  because  of  the  danger  of 
discovery,  but  for  the  sake  of  her  own  self- 
respect  and  her  regard  for  her  children." 

"Out  of  regard  to  her  children?  But 
can't  you  imagine  a  case,  mamma,  where  a 
woman  might  encourage  an  intrigue  with  an 
eye  to  her  children's  benefit — their  pecun- 
iary benefit,  of  course  ?  Suppose  a  handsome 
widow  with  a  daughter,  for  example,  and 
not  enough  money  properly  to  educate  her. 
Some  rich  man — an  ex -army  officer  perhaps 
— pays  this  handsome  widow  what  you  call 
'  attentions,'  and  she  allows  him  to — what  is 
the  matter,  mamma? — allows  him  to  settle 
her  daughter's  school  and  college  bills. 
Could  not  that  be  managed,  with  proper 
precautions,  and  yet  the  lady  retain  her  so- 
cial position — and  an  easy  conscience  ? ' ' 

The  stately  matron  put  out  a  hand  and 
caught  the  banister;  she  threw  a  quick 
glance  over  her  shoulder.  Isabella  had 
spoken  in  her  usual  clear,  bell-like  tones. 

"Isabella! — can  I  credit  my  ears — that 
you  dare — your  own  mother — to  insinu- 


204  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

The  girl  gave  a  cold  smile. 

"  What  agitates  you,  mamma?  Of  course 
I  quite  comprehend  that  we  are  not  human 
beings ;  but  it's  amusing,  sometimes,  to 
imagine  what  might  happen  if  we  were !  " 

"Is    nothing    sacred    to   you  —  no   vir- 

"  Virtue  !  Do  you  mean  hypocrisy  and 
lying?  Oh,  how  I  should  thank  God — if 
there  is  such  a  Being — if  some  person  of  our 
own  immediate,  impeccable  social  circle 
would  come  out  frankly  and  unreservedly 
and  confess  that  he  or  she  had  been  guilty 
of  some  genuine,  living,  natural,  human 
wickedness  !  Sometimes  it  seems  to  me  as 
if  this  smooth,  tinkling,  smirking,  rotten- 
hearted  respectability  would  drive  me  mad. 
It  has  driven  me  to  what  is  perhaps  some- 
thing worse  !  You  have  cultivated  my  mind 
— was  it  so  as  to  kill  my  heart  more  easily  ? 
Tell  me  the  truth,  for  once,  mamma ;  have 
you  ever  been  wicked  ?  ' ' 

"  Isabella  ! — can  it  be  you  who " 

"  Ah  !  that  is  like  the  mammas  on  the 
stage.  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  not  go  down  on  your 
knees ' ' 

"  I  can't  act  up  to  you,  I'm  afraid.     I 


SOCIETY  ETHICS  205 

haven't  your  dramatic  talent.  So  that  is 
all?  Well,  then,  here!  " 

With  trembling  fingers  and  a  face  quiver- 
ing with  shame,  misery,  and  contempt,  she 
opened  the  little  morocco  bag  at  her  girdle. 
She  took  from  it  a  piece  of  paper  folded 
small. 

"I  have  carried  this  with  me,  night  and 
day,  ever  since  I  found  it,"  she  said. 
"  You  thought  you  had  destroyed  them  all, 
I  suppose,  or  put  them  somewhere  else  ;  but 
this  had  got  in  behind  the  little  drawers  in 
the  old  desk  you  gave  me,  and  I  found  it 
there,  and  read  it.  Here  is  the  date,  you 
see — ten  years  ago  ;  and  the  handwriting — 
almost  the  same  then  as  now ;  and  here  are 
his  initials — '  A.  D.  S. '  Are  all  love-letters 
like  this,  mamma  ?  Are  those  you  got  from 
papa  like  it?  It  is  a  pleasant  thing  for  a 
daughter  to  find,  isn't  it?  It  is  not  at  all  the 
way  I  ever  heard  General  Stepyngstone  talk 
to  you  ;  he  has  always  spoken  very  politely 
and  ceremoniously.  He  is  a  soldier,  a  brave, 
true,  gallant  gentleman,  of  course.  Why 
does  he  write  so  differently  from  the  way  he 
talks  ?  Take  it ;  I  had  never  meant  to  show 
it  to  you,  but  one  is  sometimes  surprised  out 
of  the  strict  proprieties.  Oh,  mamma  !  I 


206  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

could  have  forgiven  you  the  wickedness,  and 
loved  you  more  than  ever ;  but  the  lies  and 
the  hypocrisy.  ...  I  told  you  I  was 
going  to  walk  with  Sabina  Estengrewe ;  it 
was  a  lie.  I  am  going  to  meet  my  lov- 
er— not  Mr.  Whiterduce — my  lover  !  Why 
should  not  I  have  an  intrigue  as  well  as  you  ? 
— but  I  will  not  lie  about  it !  Good-by, 
mamma." 

She  opened  the  door,  paused  on  the  thresh- 
old a  moment,  then  shut  the  door  behind 
her  and  was  gone.  Mrs.  Sharingbourne  re- 
mained supporting  herself  against  the  newel- 
post,  the  letter  in  her  hand.  She  had  not 
at  all  the  aspect  of  a  woman  such  as  a  gal- 
lant soldier  would  lose  his  heart  to.  After 
a  while  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  servant 
coming  up  from  below.  She  forced  her 
shaking,  enfeebled  limbs  to  bear  her  to  her 
room,  entered,  and  locked  the  door. 

Meanwhile  Isabella  crossed  the  Park,  de- 
laying on  the  way,  as  if  trying  to  make  the 
fresh  greenness  of  the  grass  and  trees  enter 
into  her  parched  soul.  But  Nature  seldom 
helps  us  at  need.  Isabella  finally  reached 
the  other  side,  traversed  the  boulevard,  and 
made  several  turnings,  which  brought  her  to 
the  theatre.  She  passed  along  a  side  alley, 


SOCIETY  ETHICS  207 

and  was  joined  at  small  side  door  by  Scara- 
manga.  He  took  her  right  hand  in  his  left, 
smiling  but  saying  nothing,  and  led  her 
within. 

It  was  dark;  here  and  there  a  gas-jet, 
partly  turned  on,  lit  the  narrow  passages  and 
the  steep  stairs.  Presently  he  opened  a  door 
and  ushered  her  into  a  small  room  profusely 
but  untidily  furnished.  It  was  a  mixture  of 
parlor  and  office,  with  suggestions  of  the 
property-room.  Three  or  four  huge  photo- 
graphs of  handsome  actresses  stood  on  tables 
or  were  tacked  on  the  walls — that  of  Mile. 
Letitia  in  the  most  conspicuous  place.  A 
small  door,  standing  ajar,  opened  into  a 
dressing-room.  The  apartment  was  the  busi- 
ness abode  of  the  manager  of  the  theatre. 

"  He  never  gets  here  before  eleven,  so 
we've  a  good  hour  and  a  half  to  talk  it  over 
in,"  remarked  Scaramanga,  throwing  back 
his  hair  and  catching  a  glance  at  himself  in 
the  looking-glass.  "  How  is  the  Princess 
this  morning  ?  Sad  ?  or  nervous  ?  Let  it 
be  anything  but  irresolute  !  " 

"This  air  is  horrible — it  smells  of  stale 
liquor  and  cigars,"  said  Isabella.  "  Can't 
you  open  that  window  ?  ' ' 

"  I  fear  not — the  brute  has  driven  a  nail 


208  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

in  the  sash  ;  you  won't  notice  it  so  much 
after  a  minute. ' '  He  seated  himself  on  the 
belittered  sofa  and  drew  her  down  beside 
him,  kissing  her  hand.  She  looked  at  him 
intently. 

"  Ah,  those  eyes  !  they  see  into  my  soul," 
said  he. 

"  There  is  nothing  I  so  much  desire  as  to 
believe  in  you,  Dev,"  said  Isabella.  "  But 
I  know  that  my  future  will  depend  on  my- 
self, and  not  on  you.  If  I  have  not  the  tal- 
ent to  make  my  own  way,  independent  of 
you,  we  may  grow  to  be  .  .  .  anything 
but  lovers  !  You  are  not  strong  enough  to 
master  me,  Dev." 

"  I  want  no  mastery  but  what  your  love 
gives  me." 

"  Don't  say  pretty  things  to  me.  I'm 
not  in  that  mood.  A  woman  fighting  for 
her  life  is  not  in  tune  for  compliments." 

"  That  is  a  strange  way  to — to  describe 
it !  "  said  he,  raising  his  head. 

"It  is  the  right  way.  When  you  meet  a 
girl  in  society  she  is  soft  and  pliable,  be- 
cause she  has  the  world  on  her  side  and  is 
secure.  But  when  she  cuts  loose  from  so- 
ciety she  must  fight  for  her  life.  If  she  de- 
pends on  her  lover  she  will  lose  him." 


SOCIETY  ETHICS  209 

"  Ah,  that  is  not  generous  !  " 

"It  is  true,  Dev.  As  soon  as  you  felt 
that  I  was  helpless  and  couldn't  do  without 
you,  you  would  begin  to  be  indifferent.  I 
shouldn't  blame  you,  for  it  would  be  my 
fault,  not  yours.  Why  should  I  expect  you 
to  devote  your  life  to  a  woman  whom  women 
would  despise  and  men  insult  ?  A  husband 
may  neglect  his  wife,  because  marriage  itself 
still  protects  her ;  but  a  mistress  neglected  by 
her  lover — what  protection  has  she?  She 
needs  ten  times  as  much  devotion  as  the 
wife,  and  for  that  very  reason  gets  not  a 
tenth  as  much.  Yes,  Dev  •  and  all  expe- 
rience confirms  it." 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  deny  it.  We  hear 
only  of  those  who  fail ;  the  others  are  silent. 
But,  Belle,  let  us  drop  all  that  and  marry  ! 
What  end  have  I  but  your  happiness  ?  for 
mine  can  come  only  through  yours  !  " 

She  put  her  hand  in  his  and  her  eyes 
softened. 

"Why,  that  solves  it  all,  then!  "  cried 
he,  springing  up.  "I'll  get  a  license  at 
once !  We've  wasted  too  much  time  al- 
ready. Where  shall  I  take  you  in  the  mean- 
time?" 

"  I  will  stay  here — and  you  with  me," 
'4 


210  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

replied  she,  drawing  him  down  beside  her 
in  her  turn. 

He  put  on  an  air  of  perplexity. 

She  was  plainly  moved  now,  and  struggled 
hard  to  get  back  her  former  self-possession. 
Her  bosom  went  up  and  down  beneath  her 
thin  summer  dress.  She  held  her  face  avert- 
ed, but  he  kept  saying,  "  Look  at  me,  dar- 
ling ;  look  at  me !  "  till  at  last  she  turned, 
and  let  her  eyes  meet  his.  They  leaned 
slowly  toward  each  other  and  their  lips  met. 

"  It  shall  not  be  that,  dear ;  it  shall  not !  " 
murmured  she,  letting  his  mouth  feel  the 
movement  of  hers  as  she  spoke.  "  Until  I 
am  as  free  as  you  I  will  not  be  your  wife  !  " 

He  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and 
looked  at  her.  "  Why  do  you  bewilder  me 
so,  darling?  It  shall  be  anything — anything 
you  wish  !  Don't  you  feel  how  utterly  I  am 
yours,  body  and  soul,  always  ?  I  care  noth- 
ing for  what  name  you  come  to  me  by,  only 
come — come!  " 

"If  passion  were  only  immortal,"  she 
whispered,  with  a  tremble,  "or  if  its  mo- 
ment were  only  eternity  !  " 

"  Love  like  ours " 

"  No,  no  !  hush,  hush  !  Ah,  me,  how 
easily  a  woman  is  a  fool.  They  laugh  at 


SOCIETY  ETHICS  211 

our  new  education,  but  we  may  thank  Heav- 
en for  anything  that  helps  us  part  our  heads 
from  our  hearts,  if  only  for  a  few  minutes  at 
a  time.  It  is  what  we  think  in  cold  blood 
that  stays  true ;  what  we  feel — well,  if  that 
were  true,  earth  would  be  heaven  !  I  be- 
wilder you  ?  I  bewilder  myself — on  pur- 
pose, almost,  I  think.  But  there  are  some 
things  I  am  sure  of — one  is  that  I  cannot  live 
any  longer  at  home.  I  have  said  things — 
but  no  matter  about  that.  And  I  cannot  be 
the  wife  of  that — of  Mr.  Whiterduce.  Those 
are  two  certainties.  But  the  wedding  is 
fixed  for  Midsummer  Day,  so  I  have  no  time 
to  lose.  I  must  go.  I  have  a  little  money 
of  my  own — about  seven  hundred  dollars — 
I  can  live  a  year  on  it.  I  shall  go  to  one  of 
the  great  cities  and  try  to  get  on  the  stage — 
not  as  a  star ;  as  a  chorus  girl,  if  I  can  do 
no  better  at  first.  I  thought  of  taking  a 
teacher  for  my  voice  here,  but  there's  no 
time.  I  must  go  as  I  am.  Well,  that  is  all. 
Of  course,  I  shall  take  another  name.  I  will 
pay  so  much  homage  to  society.  It's  the 
only  way  I  can  return  my  many  obligations 
— by  self-annihilation." 

This  speech   startled  Scaramanga  in  ear- 
nest.    He  missed  from  it  a  feature  of  leading 


212  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

importance — namely,  himself.  His  relations 
with  Isabella  had  always  interested  him,  and 
since  they  had  seemed  to  be  approaching  a 
crisis,  had  excited  him.  Above  all,  it  had 
awakened  the  sensuality  and  the  vanity 
which  are  at  the  basis  of  the  true  musical 
temperament.  He  possessed  intellect  and 
prudence,  but  these  could  be  temporarily 
overborne  by  the  flattering  tide  of  propensi- 
ties which,  though  essentially  base,  wore  for 
the  moment  lovely  hues  of  beauty  and  de- 
light. Thus  he  was  capable,  under  due 
stimulus,  of  real  recklessness  ;  but  the  stim- 
ulus must  be  largely  made  up  of  appeals  to 
egotism.  Not  that  he  wished  to  be  coarsely 
and  obviously  exalted,  for  he  was  a  man  of 
refined  culture  ;  but  exalted — deified — he 
must  feel  himself  to  be,  implicitly  if  not  ex- 
plicitly, else  his  reaction  would  be  incom- 
plete and  stiff. 

He  expressed  his  feeling  naively,  though 
gracefully  enough.  "  Don't  you  see  how 
this  humiliates  me?"  he  said,  gloomily, 
resting  his  cheek  upon  his  hand.  "  What 
part  do  you  give  me  in  your  plans  ?  I  offer 
you  my  life,  and  you  leave  me  standing  with- 
out a  word  !  " 

Isabella  could  doubtless  read  him  aright ; 


SOCIETY  ETHICS  213 

but  a  woman  does  not  always  wish  to  see  as 
far  as  she  can. 

"I  said  we  must  both  be  free,"  was  her 
reply.  "  I  do  not  ask  you  to  take  part  with 
me;  but  I  do  not  forbid  you,  Dev  !  " 

These  words,  and  still  more  her  manner, 
rekindled  him. 

"  Oh,  let  us  have  no  more  reserves  and 
ambiguities  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Open  your 
soul  to  me  !  Tell  me  what  I  want  to  hear  ! 
Freedom?  I  can  feel  no  freedom  but  in 
your  arms  !  ' ' 

To  a  woman  thoroughly  and  fanatically  in 
love  with  him,  her  lover  may  utter  any  ex- 
travagancies, poetic,  histrionic,  or  idiotic, 
and  she  will  gather  them  to  her  heart  for 
pure  gold.  But  so  long  as  she  still  retains 
an  atom  of  the  critical  leaven,  or  if  she  has 
not  yet  accomplished  the  assimilation  of  the 
man  with  her  ideal  of  him,  he  were  best  be 
wary  not  to  force  the  note. 

That  poetic  paradox  of  Scaramanga's 
struck  a  tiny  chill  through  Isabella.  In  her 
present  abnormally  sensitive  state  she  was 
morbidly  alive  to  the  faintest  intonations  of 
insincerity.  She  had  believed  herself  to  love 
this  man  with  all  her  heart ;  that  was  her 
great  exculpation  in  her  own  eyes ;  but  at 


214  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

this  juncture  a  most  inopportune  misgiving 
stirred  in  the  bottom  of  her  mind.  "  What 
if  I  were  mistaken  in  him  after  all  ?  " 

She  promptly  suppressed  it ;  to  extirpate 
it  was  beyond  her  power.  But  to  confess 
error  at  this  stage  was  too  much  for  her 
courage.  She  had  burned  her  ships;  she 
was  destitute  of  alternatives.  She  must  tem- 
porize, if  nothing  more,  and  doubtless  this 
might  prove  in  the  end  a  false  alarm. 

"  Can  you  trust  no  sense  but  your  ears, 
Dev  ?  "  she  said,  letting  her  eyelids  fall.  "  I 
am  leaving  all  I  have  known  and  going  into 
the  unknown.  What  can  I  tell  you  or  fore- 
tell ?  You  are  free,  and  no  one  but  you  will 
know  where  I  am  gone.  I  cannot  say  more, 
and  I  can  promise  nothing.  Only — if  you 
have  the  will — and  the  power — it  should 
be  enough." 

"  I  trust  you,  arid  you  shall  trust  me,"  he 
said,  with  a  noble  accent  that  relieved  her 
greatly.  "You  know  how  I  worship  you, 
but  I  will  show  you  that  I  understand  you 
and  respect  you.  You  won't  forbid  me  to 
go  with  you?  I  couldn't  endure  not  to 
have  personally  cared  for  your  safety  and 
comfort;  but  beyond  that  all  shall  be  in 
your  own  time  and  way.  I  shall  need  no 


SOCIETY  ETHICS  215 

words — I  shall  know  when  my  probation  is 
at  an  end — only  let  me  hope  that  it  will  end 
at  last,  or  how  can  I  live  ?  ' ' 

This  was  much  more  nearly  the  right  tone, 
and  he  found  his  reward  in  her  eyes  and  on 
her  lips.  What  else  passed  between  them 
had  reference  chiefly  to  the  arrangements  for 
departure. 

Scaramanga  was  a  good  and  earnest  actor, 
and  no  member  of  his  audience  followed  his 
performances  with  more  sympathy  and  con- 
viction than  did  he  himself. 

After  he  and  Isabella  had  gone  there  was 
an  afterpiece  which  would  have  interested 
them  had  they  known  of  it.  Letitia  Valen- 
tine emerged  from  the  little  dressing-room, 
fanning  herself  with  a  palm-leaf  fan,  for  it 
was  warm  in  there.  She  flung  herself  down 
on  the  sofa,  laughed  a  little,  and  finally 
dropped  into  a  revery  which  lasted  till  the 
manager  came  in. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

RISDON    HAS    HIS    REWARD 

The  following  day  was  a  memorable  one 
in  the  annals  of  the  Constitution.  At  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  Blackmer  Risdon 
had  gone  to  bed,  or,  more  accurately,  had 
fallen  on  his  bed,  in  his  shirt  and  trousers, 
and  instantly  fallen  asleep.  He  had  been 
up  and  hard  at  work  for  two  days  and  two 
nights,  he  was  thoroughly  happy  and  he  was 
exhausted.  Such  conditions  are  favorable 
to  sound  sleep,  and  he  had  one.  Let  the 
rest  of  the  world  wake  and  be  excited  now ; 
he  had  made  his  "scoop"  and  beaten  his 
record,  and  had  earned  the  right  to  repose. 

Many  hundred  thousand  cups  of  coffee  got 
cold  that  morning,  while  those  who  should 
have  drunk  them  absorbed  instead  the  ex- 
traordinary story  which  the  Constitution 
served  up  to  them,  covering  two  pages  of  the 
paper.  Many  a  business  man,  hastening  be- 
times to  his  office  and  buying  his  paper 


RISDON  HAS  HIS  REWARD  217 

from  a  stand,  allowed  himself  to  become  en- 
tangled in  the  opening  paragraphs  of  the 
yarn,  and  thereafter  overrode  his  station,  if 
he  were  in  a  car,  or  collided  on  the  pave- 
ment with  other  pedestrians,  loitering  like 
himself  with  their  heads  between  the  pages. 
Many  a  wife  and  daughter  of  society,  too, 
kept  the  housekeeper  waiting  for  directions, 
or  delayed  their  shopping  or  their  morning 
walk,  powerless  to  tear  themselves  from  the 
thrilling  narrative.  Nay,  surprising  num- 
bers of  the  proletariat,  whose  newspaper 
reading  is  uniformly  confined  to  a  column  or 
two  of  the  latter  pages,  found  a  wealth  of 
unwonted  interest  in  that  morning's  issue, 
and  spelled  it  all  out  sitting  on  park  benches, 
or  leaning  against  area  railings,  or  declaim- 
ing the  more  sensational  passages  aloud  to 
listening  groups  in  the  liquor  saloons.  As 
for  the  clubs,  small  and  great,  they  re- 
echoed all  day  long,  and  far  into  the  next 
night,  with  voices  of  opinion,  criticism, 
and  comment,  accompanied  and  reinforced 
with  much  champagne  and  countless  cock- 
tails. And  the  electric  wire  brought  the 
startling  news  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  in  the  White  House,  who  perused  it 
with  lifted  eyebrows ;  and  to  the  Senators 


2i8  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

and  Congressmen  in  the  Capitol,  some  of 
whom  devoured  it  with  marked  uneasiness  ; 
and  abstracts  of  it  were  read  in  evening 
journals  of  London,  Paris,  Berlin,  and  other 
European  capitals.  It  was  a  mighty  triumph 
for  the  Constitution.  And  Stukely  Poyn- 
tell,  to  whose  supervision  the  literary  excel- 
lence of  the  production  was  due,  was  after- 
ward accustomed  to  remark  that  no  tales 
that  his  friend  Verinder  Vyse  had  written, 
or  could  ever  hope  to  write,  would  equal,  in 
their  entire  aggregate  of  readers,  a  tithe  of 
the  multitude  who  followed  with  bated 
breath  the  columns  of  this  solitary  effort  of 
his  own.  "I  don't  blow  about  my  abili- 
ties, and  I  don't  rely  upon  romance  for  a 
livelihood,"  quoth  he,  "  but  when  I  do  hap- 
pen to  jot  down  a  trifle  in  that  line — well, 
you  can  see  the  result  for  yourself !  ' ' 

Neither  indeed  would  it  become  the  pres- 
ent writer  to  enter  the  lists  against  a  success 
so  conspicuous  ;  and,  therefore,  instead  of 
attempting  a  paraphrase,  a  few  extracts  from 
the  Cofistitution,  having  particular  reference 
to  the  events  treated  in  this  volume,  will 
here  be  thrown  together.  It  is  needless  to 
transcribe  the  whole  article,  inasmuch  as 
some  of  its  passages  have  been  anticipated  in 


RISDON  HAS  HIS  REWARD  219 

the  foregoing  pages,  and  others  would  intro- 
duce matters  foreign  to  our  proper  theme  : 

"As  the  innumerable  readers  of  the  Con- 
stitution are  aware,"  began  the  article,  "  the 
grandeur  and  immortality  of  the  republic, 
both  in  theory  and  in  the  concrete,  have 
ever  been  cardinal  points  in  our  preaching 
and  in  our  practice.  Yet  are  we  far  from 
ignoring  the  wisdom  of  the  old  proverb, 
'  Safe  bind,  safe  find ;  '  or,  in  phrase  more 
familiar  to  patriotic  American  ears,  '  Eter- 
nal vigilance  is  the  price  of  liberty  !  ' 

"  For  be  it  confessed  that  certain  features 
of  our  system  of  government  render  it  pe- 
culiarly open  to  the  insidious  and  treason- 
able attacks  of  ambitious  and  unscrupulous 
men.  Our  very  strength  and  prosperity  as  a 
nation  have  begot  an  indifference  and  an 
easy-going  tolerance  in  respect  of  hostile  and 
disloyal  speech  and  even  action,  of  which 
more  than  one  calamity  in  our  recent  history, 
whether  political,  industrial,  or  financial, 
should  have  taught  us  the  unwisdom.  But 
it  may  safely  be  affirmed  that  never,  since 
the  outbreak  of  the  great  Rebellion  itself, 
has  the  integrity  and  very  life  of  the  insti- 
tutions which  we  have  so  well  loved  and 
so  gallantly  defended  been  so  dangerously 


220  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

threatened  as  by  the  widespread  and  amaz- 
ing conspiracy  which  it  is  to-day  our  fortu- 
nate office  (alone  among  the  journals  of 
America)  to  reveal  and  describe.  For 
many  a  month  past,  indeed,  has  the  Con- 
stitution camped  upon  the  trail  of  this 
stupendous  iniquity ;  but  we  were  deter- 
mined to  give  no  hint  of  our  discoveries  or 
our  purpose  until  the  moment  came  to  strike, 
and  to  strike  home  !  Weary  has  been  the 
delay  and  long  the  waiting ;  but  at  last  the 
hour  has  come !  The  labor,  the  anxiety, 
the  detective  sagacity  which  has  been  put 
forth  without  intermission,  and  the  money 
which  has  been  lavished  without  stint,  have 
to-day  their  reward.  We  have  successfully 
and  triumphantly  performed  what  the  most 
reluctant  must  admit  to  be  a  great  public 
service  ;  and  it  is  with  a  proud  humility 
that  we  this  morning  lay  before  an  audience, 
which  can  be  only  estimated  by  millions, 
the  final  journalistic  result.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  not  amidst  the  so-called  criminal 
classes,  then,  that  the  most  dangerous  ele- 
ments in  the  community  are  to  be  sought. 
Now  and  here,  as  in  all  times  and  places, 
intellect  and  education,  culture  and  refine- 
ment, birth  and  breeding,  have  furnished 


RISDON  HAS  HIS  REWARD  221 

forth  those  individuals  who  have  most  seri- 
ously menaced  human  progress  and  welfare. 
Alexander,  Attila,  Napoleon — to  mention  no 
others — were  men  of  giant  brain  and  genius, 
far  -  seeing  and  of  transcendent  ambition, 
broad  and  inscrutable  in  conception,  relent- 
less and  daring  in  execution.  And  the  per- 
sonage whom  we  are  about  to  name  was,  in 
gifts  and  accomplishments,  not  unworthy  to 
be  placed  side  by  side  with  these  renowned 
figures  of  history.  In  some  respects,  his 
character  was  unique.  He  had  no  craving 
for  the  external  rewards  of  eminent  achieve- 
ment, for  the  applausive  shouts  of  the  vulgar, 
for  the  devoted  enthusiasm  of  disciples,  even 
for  the  reluctant  admiration  of  the  few  com- 
petent to  appreciate  his  stupendous  talents. 
Power  was  his  single  aim ;  power  absolute 
and  practical,  yet  abstracted  to  the  verge  of 
spirituality.  This  man  contemplated  no  less 
a  feat  than  to  gather  in  his  single  hand  the 
reins  by  which  the  complete  internal  and 
foreign  policy  of  this  republic  are  swayed  ; 
he  meant  to  rule  with  the  autocracy  of  a 
Cyrus  or  a  Caesar  over  the  public  and  private 
life  of  every  American  citizen  ;  nay,  he  had 
already  advanced  beyond  the  stage  of  mere 
intention,  and  had  actually  begun  to  carry 


222  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

his  despotic  schemes  into  act !  It  is  the  sim- 
ple truth  that  at  the  period  of  his  sudden  and 
tragic  decease,  this  astonishing  personage — 
who,  to  all  outward  appearance,  was  one  of 
the  most  retiring,  the  least  active,  the  least 
publicly  familiar  participants  of  our  civic  ex- 
istence— this  man,  we  repeat,  was,  in  fact, 
an  American  czar,  passing  decrees  as  abso- 
lute as  those  of  the  Russian  autocrat,  and 
which,  with  each  passing  day,  were  becom- 
ing more  sweeping  in  their  scope  and  more 
certain  and  punctual  in  their  effect.  Nor 
can  the  possibility  fairly  be  denied,  that,  had 
not  his  secret  and  mysterious  career  been  cut 
short  when  it  was  by  the  hand  of  violence, 
we  might  ere  this  have  awakened  (too  late  !) 
to  find  ourselves  hopelessly  entangled  in  toils, 
ability  to  escape  from  which  had  been  cun- 
ningly removed  from  us,  while  the  tyranny 
itself  had  been  so  subtly  adapted  to  the  self- 
ishness and  cupidity  of  human  nature  that 
too  few  might  have  been  found  patriotic  and 
self-abnegating  enough  to  undertake  the  per- 
ilous crusade  which  should  restore  our  pur- 
loined birthright.  Lulled  to  slumber,  like 
Samson,  with  the  soothing  caresses  of  ingen- 
ious flattery,  the  hair  of  our  strength  was  be- 
ing shorn  and  the  limbs  of  our  vigor  bound 


RISDON  HAS  HIS  REWARD  223 

with  cords  fine  as  silk,   but  stronger  than 
steel. 

"  Unlike  Samson,  however,  we  might 
have  awakened  only  to  turn  once  more  to 
sleep,  murmuring  that  since,  after  all,  our 
internal  resources  were  never  more  promis- 
ing, our  arrangements  for  private  comfort 
and  public  order  never  more  effective,  and 
our  national  defensive  and  offensive  abilities 
never  more  highly  organized  and  formidable 
than  now,  it  were  mere  sentimental  folly  to 
find  fault  with  the  political  manoeuvres  to 
which  so  materially  beneficial  a  result  was 
due.  '  Have  we  not  heard  and  experienced 
enough  of  the  robbery,  rottenness,  and  im- 
positions of  all  departments  of  municipal 
and  national  administration  ?  '  we  might  ex- 
claim. '  Are  we  not,  under  a  single  strong 
and  wise  ruler,  a  thousandfold  freer  and 
more  comfortable  (save  only  in  theory)  than 
ever  heretofore  ?  If  he  has  been  clever 
enough  to  fool  us  so  well  to  our  own  well- 
being,  let  him  enjoy  the  personal  fruits  of  his 
enterprise  and  welcome  !  The  Declaration 
of  Independence  was  an  excellent  thing  in 
its  time  and  place ;  it  filled  a  felt  want.  The 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  is  a  very 
creditable  product  of  statesmanship,  whose 


224  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

chief  defect  is  only  that  it  is  not  adapted  to 
our  present  needs,  and  the  principle  of  uni- 
versal suffrage  is,  as  an  abstract  conception, 
entirely  admirable,  and  we  sincerely  regret 
that  it  has  proved  to  be  so  utter  a  failure  in 
practice.  This  is  a  country  of  industrious 
men  and  women,  whose  controlling  desire  is 
to  mind  their  own  business  and  support 
themselves  and  their  families.  The  political 
racket  has  been  decidedly  overdone  ;  its  is- 
sue has  been  to  develop  a  worthless  and  idle 
class  of  rascals,  who  think  of  nothing  but 
how  to  pick  the  pockets  of  honest  and  hard- 
working citizens.  The  latter,  moreover,  are 
forced  to  waste  hours  of  valuable  time  every 
day  in  reading  and  discussing  political 
schemes  and  doings,  the  sole  end  of  which  is 
to  determine  which  of  two  or  more  gangs  of 
thieves  shall  ply  their  calling  at  our  expense, 
or  whether  there  shall  be  a  coalition  between 
them  to  divide  the  spoils.  This  preposter- 
ous state  of  things  has,  in  our  opinion,  lasted 
quite  long  enough,  and  not  only  do  we  refuse 
to  be  indignant  with  the  able  gentleman 
who  has  quietly  and  unobtrusively  put  an 
end  to  it,  but  we  are  strongly  tempted  to 
vote  him  the  thanks  of  the  community  and 
to  wish  more  power  to  his  elbow  ! ' 


RISDON  HAS  HIS  REWARD  225 

"In  some  such  terms,  we  fear,  cynically 
humorous  and  marked  by  that  characteristic 
American  tone  which  might  be  defined  as 
pessimistic  optimism,  would  the  mass  of  our 
fellow-countrymen  have  met  the  discovery  of 
this  comprehensive  coup  d'etaf,  had  it  been 
allowed  fully  to  mature  itself.  To  some  ex- 
tent the  public  mind  had  been  made  familiar 
with  minor  but  analogous  enterprises.  We 
had  witnessed  the  scandals  of  the  great 
'  rings '  in  New  York,  San  Francisco,  and 
elsewhere,  the  tyranny  of  trusts,  and  the  law- 
lessness of  organized  mobs.  It  had  become 
our  habit  rather  to  applaud  the  cleverness 
and  success  of  rascality  than  to  encounter  it 
with  grave  moral  rebuke.  Spasms  of  '  re- 
form '  were,  indeed,  still  witnessed ;  but 
these  had  been  so  artfully  availed  of  by  the 
rascals  themselves  (conscious  that  in  the 
long  run  the  work  of  politics  must  be  re- 
signed to  professional  politicians),  that  hon- 
est men  had  grown  sceptical  and  '  The  Star- 
eyed  Goddess '  had  begun  to  take  her  place 
as  part  and  parcel  of  the  great  American 
joke. 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  present  plot  dif- 
fered importantly  from  all  previous  ones,  not 
in  comprehensiveness  only,  but  in  the  man- 
'5 


226  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

ner  of  its  organization  and  development, 
and  in  the  impressive  secrecy  which  veiled 
the  centre  of  its  activity.  For,  improbable 
though  it  might  at  first  sight  appear,  there  is 
serious  ground  for  believing  that  the  identity 
of  the  ruling  personage  in  this  great  organi- 
zation— as  well  as  his  ultimate  designs — was 
hidden  from  the  knowledge  not  merely  of 
the  rank  and  file,  but  of  the  inner  circle  of 
captains  and  councillors.  Each  one  of  the 
numberless  agents  was  initiated  according  to 
his  capacity  for  usefulness ;  his  knowledge  of 
the  impulse  which  directed  him  extended  so 
far  and  no  further;  each  found  his  own 
greed  ministered  to,  his  own  faculties  ex- 
ploited, his  own  ambition  flattered ;  in  his 
own  sphere  he  was  permitted  verge  and  room 
enough  ;  but  the  moment  he  should  attempt 
to  pry  into  the  mysteries  above  him,  he  was 
given  to  understand  that  the  ground  was  hol- 
low beneath  his  feet,  and  that  any  further 
betrayal  of  idle  curiosity  would  involve  him 
in  destruction.  Though  every  detail  of  the 
mighty  web  was  woven  with  spider-like  ac- 
curacy and  could  be  reached  in  an  instant 
by  the  intelligence  which  operated  at  the 
centre,  yet  for  all  outside  of  that  centre  it 
possessed  no  coherent  or  fathomable  plan, 


RISDON  HAS  HIS  REWARD  227 

and  was  grasped  but  in  fragments  or  sec- 
tions. And  when  obedience  and  discretion 
are  prompted  by  the  strongest  motives  of 
self-interest,  they  are  apt  to  be  accorded. 
It  is  quite  possible,  moreover,  that  numerous 
persons  of  the  highest  honor  and  integrity, 
who  would  have  died  sooner  than  knowing- 
ly co-operate  with  such  an  organization,  may 
nevertheless  have  ignorantly  served  some  of 
its  most  pressing  needs.  Nothing  is  easier 
than  to  govern  a  man,  provided  you  know 
his  circumstances  and  characteristics,  and 
that  he  is  kept  from  any  suspicion  that  he  is 
being  manipulated. 

"  In  spite  of  the  sinister  genius  which 
marks  the  formulating  of  this  plot,  yet,  once 
formed,  it  was  not  so  difficult  to  carry  out  as 
might  be  imagined.  It  was  only  necessary 
to  begin  at  the  right  end,  in  the  right  way, 
and  it  almost  seemed  to  work  itself.  The 
division  of  parties  in  this  country  renders 
the  majorities  either  way  comparatively 
moderate,  and  therefore  easily  controlled  ; 
or,  should  there  be  an  exceptionally  strong 
opposition  on  one  or  the  other  part,  that  will 
not  embarrass  a  manager  whose  tools  are  in- 
differently democratic  or  republican.  Hav- 
ing filled  the  minor  offices  of  trust  and  pow- 


228  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

er  with  henchmen  of  his  own,  he  will  then 
proceed  to  lay  his  snares  for  bigger  game. 
By  slow  and  patient  degrees  the  State  Legis- 
latures and  Governors,  the  Electoral  Col- 
leges, finally  the  President  and  the  Cabinet 
themselves,  fall  under  his  sway.  Petty  judges 
are  easily  bought  or  influenced ;  and  when 
he  has  secured  a  majority  in  the  Supreme 
Court  his  triumph  may  be  deemed  secure. 
He  may  now  make  illegality  itself  legal,  and 
while  maintaining  the  hollow  semblance  of 
the  republic  unimpaired,  may  fill  it  with 
the  most  uncompromising  realities  of  des- 
potism. 

"When  we  say  that  the  prime  mover  in 
this  affair  was  probably  unknown  even  to  his 
nearest  lieutenants,  we  refer  to  him,  of 
course,  only  in  his  official  capacity.  As  a 
private  citizen  he  was  well  and  favorably 
known  ;  and  there  seems  to  be  little  doubt 
that  several  men,  who  were  in  reality  his 
closest  coadjutors,  imagined  him  to  be  not 
their  master,  but  their  innocent  and  unsus- 
pecting tool !  They  imagined  that  he  knew 
not  even  of  the  existence  of  the  vast  engine 
whose  every  movement  his  single  hand  in 
fact  controlled.  He  was,  they  fancied,  an 
easy-going  personage,  whose  paramount  re- 


RISDON   HAS  HIS  REWARD  229 

spectability  and  enormous  fortune  rendered 
him  peculiarly  useful  as  a  cover  and  aid  to 
their  operations.  They  came  to  him  to  ca- 
jole him  out  of  the  financial  means  and  the 
aegis  of  his  good  name,  to  enable  them  to 
execute  designs  of  which,  in  truth,  he  was 
himself  the  originator  and  instigator.  We 
can  picture  the  saturnine  humor  with  which 
he  must  often  have  listened  to  their  argu- 
ments and  subterfuges,  and  marked  the  solic- 
itude with  which  they  hid  from  the  arch 
conspirator  this  or  that  external  feature  of 
his  own  conspiracy ! 

"It  has  been  said  that  a  man  who  lays 
aside  definitely  all  moral  scruples  becomes 
possessed  of  enormous  power.  Still  more  is 
he  powerful  when  he  also  sacrifices  the  ma- 
terial rewards  of  ambition  for  the  sake  of 
more  firmly  fastening  his  hold  upon  its  eso- 
teric reality.  In  him  '  the  last  infirmity  of 
noble  minds  '  has  freed  itself  from  the  main 
obstacle  to  its  success.  He  is  unknown ; 
none  will  ever  celebrate  his  genius  or  ac- 
claim his  victories ;  but,  in  his  lonely  pride, 
he  has  his  own  esteem,  more  worth  to  him 
than  any  other,  and  he  is  secure  from  the 
base  envy  and  revenge  of  underlings  and  the 
jealousy  and  hostile  combinations  of  his 


230  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

peers.  Moreover — '  Omne  ignotum  pro  mag- 
nifico  ! ' — his  decrees  have  tenfold  authority, 
falling  from  unknown  lips.  His  attitude,  in 
short,  as  nearly  approaches  that  of  an  in- 
tangible and  invisible  divinity  as  mortal  man 
can  attain ;  and  though  we  must  turn  with  a 
shudder  of  reprobation  from  the  spectacle  of 
a  great  mind  devoting  itself  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  freedom  of  his  own  native  land, 
we  cannot  withhold  from  him  our  intellect- 
ual homage,  and  we  may  perhaps  believe 
that  his  purposes  were  not  wholly  evil,  but 
that  he  sincerely  thought  that  America 
would  derive  more  benefit  than  injury  from 
his  audacious  embezzlement  of  her  liber- 
ties. 

"  Mortal,  nevertheless,  he  was ;  and  in  this 
unavoidable  fact  lay  the  cause  of  his  weak- 
ness and  his  fall.  He  must  live  in  society, 
in  personal  relations  with  his  fellows ;  he  was 
subject  to  disease  and  accident,  and  he  could 
not  avoid  those  personal  and  private  rela- 
tions and  entanglements  which,  though  hav- 
ing no  bearing  on  his  grander  interests,  might 
yet  inadvertently  become  an  obstacle  in  their 
path.  So,  indeed,  it  turned  out ;  and  we  are 
now  to  show  how  an  incident  quite  foreign 
to  the  conspiracy  accomplished  its  overthrow 


RISDON   HAS  HIS  REWARD  231 

by  the  death  of  him  in  the  hollow  of  whose 
hand  it  lay,  and  apart  from  whose  leadership 
it  must  collapse.  The  murder  of  Pynchepole 
Whiterduce — for  the  moment  has  come  to 
withdraw  the  veil  from  this  hitherto  admired 
and  respected  name — by  the  blackmailer, 
Patrick  Barrable,  might,  with  little  exagger- 
ation, be  said  to  have  modified  the  course  of 
human  history.  For  America  is  the  hope 
and  the  arbiter  of  the  world,  and  he  who 
controls  her  destinies  stands  within  meas- 
urable distance  of  the  dictatorship  of  modern 

civilization 

"  Having,  then,  fortified  himself  at  every 
point  with  proofs  that  the  pretended  heir  of 
the  Whiterduces  was  in  fact  his  own  son,  and 
secured  himself  against  personal  danger  by 
arrangements  to  have  the  truth  published  in 
the  event  of  his  death  or  sequestration,  Pat- 
rick Barrable  was  ready  to  spring  his  mine 
upon  his  unsuspecting  antagonist.  He  seems 
not  to  have  been  at  this  time  aware  that  he 
was  about  to  grapple  with  the  man  with 
whose  organization  he  had  recently  become 
distantly  affiliated ;  nor  is  it  likely  that  Whit- 
erduce himself  recognized  him  as  a  member. 
There  are  indications  that,  later  on,  they  be- 
came mutually  aware  of  the  truth  ;  but  the 


232  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

business  which  now  brought  them  together 
was  a  purely  personal  one,  and  was  conduct- 
ed without  reference  to  anything  else.  Bar- 
rable's  position  was  impregnable,  and  Whit- 
erduce  recognized  it  as  such.  His  chagrin 
must  have  been  unspeakable  ;  but  he  seems 
to  have  disguised  it  under  a  somewhat  in- 
different demeanor,  agreeing  to  purchase  si- 
lence on  not  too  extravagant  terms,  but  in- 
timating that  the  secret  of  the  child's  birth, 
while  he  would  prefer  to  have  it  maintained, 
was  not,  however,  of  any  vital  moment  to 
him.  A  contract  was  made  by  which  Barra- 
ble  was  to  receive  a  sum  of  money  at  regu- 
lar intervals,  which  any  indiscretion  on  his 
part  would  forfeit ;  and  upon  this  understand- 
ing they  parted.  Barrable,  on  various  occa- 
sions afterward,  seems  to  have  made  efforts  to 
have  the  sum  increased ;  but,  upon  the  whole, 
matters  went  on  smoothly  for  many  years. 

"  Conditions  leading  to  a  change  were 
nevertheless  approaching.  When  Whiter- 
duce  adopted  the  boy  he  had  looked  forward 
to  so  educating  him  as  to  render  him  a  com- 
petent inheritor  of  the  great  schemes  to 
which  his  own  life  was  devoted.  But  there 
are  idiosyncrasies  and  limitations  of  temper- 
ament and  capacity  with  which  the  most 


RISDON   HAS  HIS  REWARD  233 

thorough  educational  methods  contend  in 
vain,  and  as  the  boy  grew  toward  manhood 
it  gradually  became  obvious  that  he  would 
never  manifest  those  exceptional  traits  and 
faculties  which  were  essential  to  his  pro- 
posed destiny.  He  had  neither  the  type  of 
intellect  nor  the  personal  disposition  to  reg- 
ulate and  control  such  vast  and  complicated 
affairs.  He  was,  in  truth,  a  young  fellow 
whose  instincts  and  sympathies  tended  to 
draw  him  toward  the  rank  in  life  from  which 
he  sprang;  frank,  simple,  and  affectionate, 
and  inspiring  good-will  and  kindness  in  all 
whom  he  approached,  he  was  yet  in  no  re- 
spect adapted  to  the  stern  and  lonely  role  to 
which  his  adoptive  father  had  hoped  to  in- 
troduce him. 

"  Bitter,  no  doubt,  must  have  been  Pynche- 
pole  Whiterduce's  disappointment.  Even 
the  most  reserved  of  men  is  human,  and 
craves  some  fellow  mortal  in  whom  to  con- 
fide. Whiterduce's  suspicions  of  his  wife 
(the  utter  baselessness  of  which  we  have  in- 
dicated above)  had  cut  him  off  from  com- 
panionship in  that  direction,  and  it  was  now 
evident  that  the  youth  with  whom  he  had 
hoped  to  share  his  awful  responsibilities 
would  fail  him  also.  A  certain  largeness 


234  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

and  sense  of  justice  in  the  man's  nature  is 
illustrated  by  the  fact  that  he  never  treated 
the  innocent  boy  otherwise  than  with  consid- 
eration and  even  kindness.     .     .     .     Hav- 
ing, then,  made  up  his  mind  that  he  must  go 
on  to  the  end  of  his  career  in  the  same  soli- 
tude in  which  he  had  commenced  it,  he  cast 
about  to  provide  the  boy  with  some  interest 
or  occupation  suited  to  his  predilections  and 
capacity.     What  is  to  our  present  purpose, 
he  appears  to  have  determined  to  reveal  to 
him  the  facts  of  his  birth,  in  order  that  he 
might  freely  choose  his  own  course  in  relation 
thereto.     More  than  this,  he  must  have  re- 
solved no  longer  to  keep  from  the  outside 
world  the  true  statement  of  this  matter,  hav- 
ing reached  the  conclusion  that  the  change 
in  their  common  prospects  made  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  filial  fiction  no  longer  indis- 
pensable, and  that  it  was  desirable  to  put  an 
end  to  the  prolonged  annoyance  to  which 
the    blackmailer    Barrable    had    subjected 
him.     .     .... 

"  Meantime  he  had  discovered  Barrable's 
connection  with  the  Order,  and  Barrable 
himself,  his  senses  sharpened  by  the  private 
transactions  which  had  brought  him  in  con- 
tact with  the  other,  had  attained  something 


RISDON   HAS  HIS  REWARD  235 

more  than  a  suspicion  that  Whiterduce  was 
far  more  deeply  involved  in  these  great  un- 
derground schemes  than  most  of  the  mem- 
bers had  any  idea  of.  ... 

"  Such  being  the  situation,  the  fatal  inter- 
view took  place.  Its  details  will  perhaps  be 
brought  out  at  the  trial  of  the  murderer ;  it 
is  enough  for  us  at  present  to  know  that  Bar- 
rable,  driven  to  desperation  by  this  cutting 
off  of  his  supplies,  and  realizing  that  his  own 
very  existence  might  now  be  imperilled,  re- 
solved to  secure  revenge  and  safety  at  a  sin- 
gle blow.  Disguising  his  purpose,  he  made 
an  occasion  to  pass  behind  Whiterduce's 
chair,  and  in  another  minute  the  foremost 
political  genius  and  most  profound  schemer 
in  statecraft  of  our  era  had  ceased  to  breathe  ! 
It  was  a  dastardly,  an  outrageous  crime ;  yet 
in  the  inscrutable  dispensations  of  Providence 
it  befell  at  a  fortunate  moment  for  the  safety 
of  the  commonweal.  For  there  is  good  rea- 
son to  believe  that  had  Pynchepole  Whiter- 
duce survived  another  three  months,  this  re- 
public of  ours,  to  create  which  our  forefathers 
fought  to  the  death,  and  for  whose  preserva- 
tion we  recently  poured  forth  oceans  of  blood 
and  treasure,  would  have  been  past  praying 
for! 


236  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

"  It  has  always  been  a  mystery  why,  in 
view  of  the  large  rewards  offered  for  the  ap- 
prehension of  the  criminal,  and  the  well- 
known  sagacity  of  our  detective  service  (not 
to  mention  unprofessional  investigations  upon 
which  it  is  needless  to  enlarge  to  our  readers), 
no  elucidation  of  the  deed  had  up  to  this 
moment  been  obtained.  The  fact  is,  a  curi- 
ous deadlock  was  reached  in  the  matter,  al- 
most approaching  the  confines  of  comedy. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  Barrable's  act  was 
known  to  other  members  of  the  organization. 
It  could  not  have  heen  the  wish  of  these 
men  to  protect  the  murderer ;  for  it  soon 
transpired  that  Pynchepole  Whiterduce  was, 
in  truth,  what  few  had  till  then  suspected 
him  of  being — the  real  head  and  mainstay 
of  the  conspiracy.  The  cause  of  this  revela- 
tion is  plain — it  was  due  to  the  sudden  ces- 
sation not  only  of  pecuniary  supplies,  which 
Whiterduce  had  been  accustomed  to  dis- 
burse with  a  lavish  hand,  but  to  the  absence 
of  any  further  orders  or  directions  for  the 
guidance  and  information  of  the  various 
chapters  of  the  organization.  This  abrupt 
stoppage,  occurring  simultaneously  with 
Whiterduce's  death,  placed  him  for  the  first 
time  in  his  true  light ;  his  loss  identified  him  ! 


RISDON   HAS  HIS  REWARD  237 

Inasmuch  as  his  murder  was  perpetrated,  not 
in  fulfilment  of  any  decree  of  the  order,  but 
was  the  crime  of  private  hatred  and  fatal  to 
the  most  vital  interests  of  the  order  itself,  it 
seems  strange  at  the  first  blush  that  Barrable 
was  not  either  delivered  up  to  justice  or  exe- 
cuted by  sentence  of  his  fellow-members.  So, 
no  doubt,  he  would  have  been  had  not  they 
been  actually  afraid  to  denounce  or  lay 
hands  upon  him.  The  man  knew  too  much. 
His  arrest  would  have  been  followed  by  rev- 
elations involving  many  of  the  leaders  of  the 
conspiracy,  whose  names  he  had  secured, 
along  with  incriminating  evidence ;  while, 
had  they  themselves  executed  him,  his  meas- 
ures had  been  so  taken  that  the  exposures 
would  still  have  been  accomplished.  Al- 
though, therefore,  Barrable  was  an  outlaw 
among  outlaws,  none  dare  touch  him ;  they 
were  even  forced  to  contribute  to  the  cun- 
ning scoundrel's  support. 

"  But  this  is  not  all.  Barrable  was  known 
to  the  police.  He  and  a  small  group  of 
members  of  his  own  grade  had  long  been  in 
the  habit  of  meeting  unofficially  in  a  small, 
out-of-the-way  beer  saloon,  kept  by  two 
Germans  known  by  the  name  of  Pilsen — 
husband  and  wife.  These  persons  had  al- 


238  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

ways  evinced  sympathy  with  anarchists,  ni- 
hilists, and  social  rebels  of  all  kinds,  to  whose 
vaporings  they  lent  an  apparently  approving 
ear,  though  any  violation  of  decency  and 
order  in  the  saloon  itself  was  always  rigor- 
ously suppressed  by  the  proprietor,  a  man  of 
gigantic  strength  and  resolution.  It  was  in 
a  private  room  of  this  saloon  that  Barrable 
— in  veiled  terms,  yet  such  as  hints  from 
other  sources  rendered  clear — gave  utter- 
ance, on  a  certain  occasion,  to  statements 
defining  his  relations  with  Pynchepole 
Whiterduce.  It  was  on  the  morning  follow- 
ing these  remarks  that  the  murder  was  com- 
mitted ;  and  the  Pilsens,  putting  two  and 
two  together,  found  no  difficulty  in  identi- 
fying its  author — especially  as  he  resumed 
his  visits  there  not  long  afterward  and  hard- 
ly troubled  himself  to  disguise  the  truth. 
But  what,  it  may  be  asked,  has  all  this  to  do 
with  the  police?  The  answer  is  that  the 
Pilsens  were  themselves  secret  police  agents, 
and  had,  during  upward  of  a  dozen  years, 
been  quietly  accumulating  information  as  to 
outlaws  of  all  kinds,  and  had  of  late  been 
more  particularly  on  the  trail  of  the  great 
conspiracy  itself.  Why,  then,  was  not  Bar- 
rable at  once  apprehended  ?  Simply  because 


RISDON   HAS  HIS  REWARD  239 

it  was  desired  to  complete  the  evidence  con- 
necting him,  and  others  besides  him,  with 
the  political  crime ;  and  it  was  feared  that 
his  premature  arrest  would  stampede  other 
men,  some  of  them  in  high  positions  in  the 
community,  whom  it  was  necessary  to  secure. 
Moreover,  the  testimony  of  the  Pilsens 
would  be  requisite  at  the  trial,  and,  of  course, 
their  appearance  in  the  witness-box  would 
have  put  an  end  to  their  further  usefulness  as 
informers. 

"  This  is  one  side  of  the  deadlock.  On 
the  other  side,  Barrable  was  in  straits  for 
money,  his  supplies  from  the  organization 
being  small  and  precarious  ;  but  he  dared 
not  apply  to  the  young  gentleman  at  present 
bearing  the  name  of  Whiterduce,  and  at- 
tempt to  coerce  him  by  the  same  means  that 
had  been  successful  with  the  other ;  for  it 
was  doubtful,  in  the  first  place,  whether 
Mr.  Murgatroyd  Whiterduce  would  consent 
to  buy  his  silence ;  and,  secondly,  it  was 
highly  probable  that  his  application  would 
suggest  inquiries  which  might  end  in  estab- 
lishing his  guilt  as  to  the  murder.  .  .  . 
It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  Barrable' s 
intercourse  withHemynge  (a  worthless  char- 
acter, formerly  in  Whiterduce's  employ,  but 


240  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

dismissed  for  malfeasance)  was  the  proxi- 
mate cause  of  the  present  revelations. 
Hemynge  ventured  to  approach  Mr.  Mur- 
gatroyd  Whiterduce  in  the  role  of  Barrable's 
cat's-paw ;  but  the  precious  pair  had  quite 
misinterpreted  the  young  gentleman's  temper. 
The  revelation  of  his  birth  acted  upon  young 
Murgatroyd  as  a  sort  of  tonic ;  so  far  from 
crushing  and  intimidating  him,  it  seemed  to 
put  new  life  in  his  veins  ;  he  not  only  re- 
jected Hemynge's  proposals  to  purchase  si- 
lence, but  he  rejoiced  to  find  himself  relieved 
from  a  false  position,  which  he  had  long  felt 
(without  being  able  to  account  to  himself 
for  the  feeling)  to  be  irksome  and  unsuit- 
able; he  lost  no  time  in  communicating 
with  certain  friends  of  his — without  whose 
intelligent  and  manly  co-operation,  it  may 
be  observed  in  passing,  this  newspaper,  and 
society  at  large,  would  have  lacked  much 
important  help  and  enlightenment — and 
their  conference,  in  which  our  editor  was 
requested  to  participate,  both  hastened  the 
present  publication  and  expanded  many  of 
its  details.  .  .  ,  Although  by  the  terms 
of  the  elder  Whiterduce's  will,  Mr.  Murga- 
troyd inherits  the  property  by  inalienable 
right,  he  desires  henceforth  to  renounce  all 


RISDON  HAS  HIS  REWARD  241 

pretension  to  the  acquaintance  and  coun- 
tenance of  those  who  may  deem  themselves 
to  have  been  imposed  upon.  ...  It 
is  our  opinion  that  he  will  find  himself 
possessed  of  more  friends  than  ever,  and  of 
the  kind  that  is  worth  having  !  .  .  . 
Among  the  comedy  features  to  which  we  al- 
luded above  may  be  recorded  the  circum- 
stance that  Mr.  Murgatroyd  has  been  anx- 
iously in  quest,  ever  since  the  murder,  of 
the  party  or  parties  to  whom  certain  large 
sums  of  money  appeared  by  the  accounts  to 
have  been  paid.  These  payments  were 
seemingly  more  or  less  regular  and  periodi- 
cal ;  but  the  payees  were  not  specified,  and 
Mr.  Murgatroyd,  desirous  to  continue  to  ful- 
fil (so  far  as  he  could  determine  them)  the 
established  customs  of  the  deceased,  was  at 
a  loss  to  understand  why  the  former  re- 
cipients of  this  largess  did  not  come  forward 
to  claim  it.  It  is  needless  to  explain  that 
this  money  represented  the  elder  Whiter  - 
duce's  supplies  to  the  secret  organization. 
The  latter  was  at  least  as  desirous  to  have 
the  payments  continued  as  Mr.  Murgatroyd 
was  to  continue  them,  but  were  withheld  by 
obvious  reasons  from  allowing  their  wants 
to  transpire.  Even  ready  cash  may  some- 
16 


242  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

times  he  bought  at  altogether   too   high   a 
price !     .     .     . 

"  It  only  remains  to  add,  therefore,  that 
Barrable  and  Hemynge  are  both  in  custody, 
and  that  the  latter  has  offered  to  turn  State's 
evidence.  It  may  be  necessary  to  accept 
this  proposal ;  for  we  fear  that  the  difficul- 
ties in  the  way  of  bringing  to  justice  the 
more  prominent  and  responsible  members  of 
this  conspiracy  will  be  only  too  great  in  any 
event.  The  organization,  or  society,  was 
in  so  large  a  degree  inspired  and — we  might 
almost  say  —  constituted  by  Pynchepole 
Whiterduce,  that  it  not  only  collapsed  at 
his  death,  but  little  that  is  tangible  in  the 
way  of  testimony  against  its  other  members 
can  be  looked  for.  Whatever  of  such  testi- 
mony was  accessible  to  the  guilty  ones  they 
have  of  course  destroyed  ;  some  of  them  have 
fled  the  country ;  and  there  will  be  a  dis- 
position in  certain  quarters  to  bear  lightly 
upon  others.  The  evil  having  been  extir- 
pated, and  the  chief  malefactor  beyond  our 
reach,  it  will  be  argued  that  public  con- 
venience and  morals  will  not  be  advanced 
by  stirring  over  the  dregs  of  this  chief 
scandal  of  our  generation.  ...  At  all 
events,  we  have  done  our  duty  !  ' ' 


CHAPTER   XIV 

UNDERCURRENTS 

Isabella  Sharingbourne,  after  parting  from 
Scaramanga,  did  not  return  home.  She  had 
meant  to  do  so,  for  there  were  in  her  room 
things  of  hers  which  should  have  gone  with 
her  on  the  journey  she  was  to  make  on  the 
morrow.  But  she  could  not  meet  her 
mother.  The  terrible  scene  of  the  morning 
had  opened  a  gulf  between  them  never  to  be 
crossed.  That  scene  had  not  been  premedi- 
tated on  Isabella's  part.  The  revelation  of 
the  letter  which  she  had  accidentally  found 
some  months  before  had  ever  since  burned  in 
her  heart  and  weighed  upon  it ;  it  had 
brought  home  to  her  as  nothing  else  could 
have  done  the  ugly  reality  of  human  sin  and 
pollution.  Its  effect  had  been  to  make  a 
callousness  in  the  tenderest  and  most  sacred 
spot  in  her  soul ;  a  girl  can  sooner  afford 
almost  any  loss  than  that  of  reverence  for  her 
mother.  Combined  with  her  distaste  for 


244  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

Murgatroyd  and  the  fancy  (capricious  at  first) 
which  she  had  permitted  herself  for  Scara- 
manga,  it  had  impelled  her  to  her  present 
pass.  In  her  morbid  and  feverish  musings 
it  had  almost  seemed  to  her  a  duty — perverse 
and  diabolic,  but  a  sort  of  duty  still — to  fol- 
low in  her  mother's  footsteps. 

But  she  had  never  contemplated  telling 
her  mother  of  her  discovery.  Often  had  she 
longed,  indeed,  for  some  tender  and  remorse- 
ful explanation  between  them — some  pas- 
sionate, tragic  episode  of  confession,  harrow- 
ing but  wholesome  to  the  soul.  Then  she 
could  have  taken  her  mother  to  her  heart  of 
hearts  closer  than  ever  before,  and  from  those 
depths  of  humiliation  and  forgiveness  there 
would  have  arisen,  she  thought,  some  fra- 
grant flower  of  charity  and  hope.  But  the 
girl  could  not  herself  give  the  cue  for  such  a 
scene;  the  initiative  must  come  from  her 
mother  if  it  came  at  all.  She  waited  in  vain, 
and  at  last  the  miserable  denouement  had 
been  forced  on  in  the  manner  we  have  seen. 
After  this  there  could  be  no  reconciliation 
between  the  two. 

There  was  a  neat,  quiet  apartment  house 
in  a  street  not  far  from  the  Park,  in  which 
persons  who  applied  with  satisfactory  refer- 


UNDERCURRENTS  245 

ences  found  a  safe  and  comfortable  abode. 
In  one  of  the  airy  upper  floors  of  this  estab- 
lishment a  certain  young  lady,  with  whom  we 
are  slightly  acquainted,  was  keeping  house  all 
by  herself.  She  had  three  pretty,  spotless 
rooms  and  a  kitchen  ;  she  had  a  regular  in- 
come from  investments,  sufficient  to  pay  her 
board  and  lodging  and  for  her  moderate  but 
tasteful  wardrobe,  and  she  earned  enough 
money  besides  to  provide  her  with  some  lux- 
uries. In  short,  she  was  an  example  of  a 
class  which  has  come  into  existence  among 
us  within  quite  recent  memory,  and  may  be 
regarded  as,  on  the  whole,  one  of  our  more 
humane  and  beneficent  institutions.  She 
was  a  bachelor  girl,  and  her  name  was  Sa- 
bina  Estengrewe. 

Sabina  was  a  New  Woman,  of  not  too  ag- 
gressive a  variety.  She  had  good  sense  and 
some  talent ;  she  was  gifted  with  excellent 
spirits,  and  had  the  prettiness  of  sound  health 
and  a  lively  temperament.  She  took  a  be- 
nevolent interest  in  her  sex,  and  during  some 
months  in  winter  accepted  invitations  to 
lecture  before  the  various  women's  clubs  and 
other  organizations  that  have  sprung  up  of 
late  years.  She  was  a  successful  little  creat- 
ure in  her  own  sphere  and  measure,  and  was 


246  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

well  disposed  toward  all  the  world.  The 
marriage  of  her  aunt,  to  whose  charms  the 
fashionable  clergyman  of  the  day  had,  as  we 
know,  fallen  a  captive,  had  precipitated  Sa- 
bina's  independence.  Unlike  her  sister  Han- 
nah, she  could  not  digest  the  idea  of  settling 
down  under  her  step-uncle's  wing,  and  had 
accordingly  taken  this  little  flight  on  her  own 
account.  Some  people  did  not  approve  of 
such  doings,  but  Sabina  did,  and  that  was 
enough  for  her  happiness. 

She  and  the  beautiful,  clever,  and  fortunate 
Miss  Sharingbourne  had  recently  seen  a  good 
deal  of  each  other ;  there  were  points  of  sym- 
pathy between  them.  Sabina  looked  upon 
Isabella  as  the  ideal  girl  of  the  period ;  the 
grave,  reticent,  occasionally  sardonic  Isabella 
secretly  envied  the  jolly  little  female  bache- 
lor, and  liked  her  unconditionally,  and  they 
both  believed  in  the  future  (as  it  is  techni- 
cally termed)  of  the  sex.  Isabella  had  more 
brains  than  Sabina,  but  could  not  use  them 
to  such  practical  purpose.  Sabina  did  not 
see  what  a  girl  betrothed  to  millions  could 
do  with  brains  any  way  ;  but  later  she  di- 
vined that  her  friend's  matrimonial  anticipa- 
tions, in  spite  of  the  millions,  were  not  rose 
hued.  This,  of  course,  interested  her  im- 


UNDERCURRENTS  247 

mensely,  and  the  two  young  ladies  ultimately 
became  quite  confidential.  But  there  was  one 
subject — of  course,  the  dominant  one  in  her 
thoughts — that  of  Scaramanga — which  Isa- 
bella never  once  alluded  to.  She  thought 
Sabina  had  no  suspicions  in  that  direction  ; 
but  herein  she  did  less  than  justice  to  her 
sprightly  friend's  natural  sagacity.  Sabina 
did  not  know  how  far  things  had  gone  be- 
tween Isabella  and  the  romantic  musician, 
but  she  was  convinced  that  Scaramanga  was 
an  object  of  no  small  importance  in  her 
friend's  eyes.  She  was  sure  that  Isabella 
would  do  nothing  wrong ;  for  the  rest,  the 
situation  was  exciting  and  delightful.  It 
would  come  out  right  somehow,  as  a  matter 
of  course. 

Though  silent  as  to  Scaramanga,  Isabella 
allowed  it  to  be  understood  that  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  never  to  marry  poor  Mur- 
gatroyd.  Sabina  did  not  think  Murgatroyd 
nearly  as  impossible  as  did  her  friend,  though 
she  could  easily  agree  that  he  was  not  good 
enough  for  the  latter.  Who  was,  indeed  ? 
What,  then,  did  Isabella  intend  to  do  ?  Isa- 
bella replied  that  she  would  like  to  do  as 
Sabina  was  doing  ;  but  there  were  obstacles ; 
she  had  no  income  of  her  own,  not  even  a 


248  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

small  one ;  she  could  not  lecture,  nor  were 
her  musical  or  dramatic  talents  certainly 
available  as  a  means  of  livelihood,  and,  at 
all  events,  she  could  not  live  in  the  same 
place  with  the  man  she  meant  to  jilt  and  in 
the  society  that  had  expected  her  to  be  the 
wealthiest  bride  in  town.  Since  something 
must  be  done,  however,  she  affirmed  her 
purpose  to  go  to  some  remote  place  and  there 
do  the  best  she  could,  with  such  resources  as 
she  had.  Sabina  spoke  sagely  of  the  rash- 
ness of  such  an  idea,  but  ended  by  offering 
to  do  anything  in  her  power  to  help  her  out 
with  her  plan.  She  could  give  her  intro- 
ductions, perhaps  practical  hints,  and  other 
useful  things.  But  she  avowed  her  convic- 
tion that  Isabella  could  not  fail  to  succeed  in 
anything  she  might  undertake.  She  hoped 
Isabella  would  now  say  something  about 
Scaramanga,  and  her  not  doing  so  made  her 
a  little  anxious.  If  Isabella  was  going  to 
make  a  run-away  marriage  with  him,  why 
should  she  not  say  so  ?  And  if  she  was  not 
going  to  make  such  a  marriage,  what  was  she 
going  to  do  ?  Sabina  was  troubled. 

About  noon  of  the  day  whose  beginning 
has  been  recounted  Sabina  was  walking  up 
and  down  in  her  little  sitting-room  declaim- 


UNDERCURRENTS  249 

ing  a  passage  in  her  new  speech,  when  her 
door-bell  rang,  and  there  was  Isabella,  erect, 
slender,  grave,  with  dark  circles  around  her 
eyes.  Sabina  kissed  and  welcomed  her  with 
joy.  Isabella  hugged  her  with  more  than 
usual  emphasis.  "  What  has  happened, 
dear?"  Sabina  immediately  asked. 

"  Nothing.  Yes,  I'm  going  to  leave — I 
have  left.  May  I  stay  with  you  to-night  ? 
You  might  send  a  note  home  to  say  that  I 
am  here.  To-morrow  I  shall  go  away  for 
good." 

' '  My  dearest  girl !     Alone  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Isabella,  and  sighed. 

"  Is  that  just  a  sigh  or  is  it  a  lie?  "  asked 
Sabina;  but  unfortunately  she  did  not  utter 
the  words  aloud.  "  And  where  shall  you 
go?  "  was  the  inquiry  that  reached  Isabella's 
ears. 

She  took  one  of  the  bachelor  girl's  hands, 
as  they  sat  side  by  side,  and  after  a  few  mo- 
ments said  :  "  People  will  ask  you  that  after 
I  am  gone,  and  it  will  be  best  if  you  can  an- 
swer that  you  don't  know.  So  I  won't  tell 
you." 

"  Oh  !  but  I  wouldn't  mind  a  little  whop- 
per like  that,"  returned  Sabina.  '•  You  tell 
and  I'll  forget !  " 


250  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

But  Isabella  shook  her  head.  "  I'll  write 
to  you  afterward,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  but  look  here — I  was  just  think- 
ing of  running  off  for  a  lark  somewhere — I've 
nothing  to  do;  mightn't  I  go  with  you, 
wherever  it  is  ?  Think  what  fun  we'd  have  ! 
And  I  might  put  you  up  to  some  points,  too. 
You  have  theories,  you  know,  but  I  have 
experience." 

Isabella  gave  a  start  and  a  slight  shudder ; 
Sabina  wondered  why.  "  No,  dear,"  Isa- 
bella said,  "  there  are  reasons  why  it's  best 
not.  How  good  you  are,  you  blessed  little 
thing  !  Some  day  you'll  know  all  about  it. 
Don't  talk  about  experience;  you  don't 
know  what  it  means,  thank  God !  Let  us 
change  the  subject ;  it  makes  me  blue.  What 
are  you  doing  now  ?  By  the  bye,  you  re- 
member, I  had  my  trunk  sent  here  a  while 
ago  ?  I'll  have  to  look  through  it  to  see  if 
I  have  all  I  need.  I  know  I've  left  some 
things  at  home,  but  they'll  have  to  stay 
there;  I  can't  go  for  them." 

Sabina  leaned  over  and  kissed  Isabella's 
shoulder.  "  Bless  you,  my  darling,  wherever 
you  go !  Your  trunk  ?  yes.  I've  whole 
stacks  of  things — things  I  don't  want — un- 
der things,  you  know — you're  about  a  foot 


UNDERCURRENTS  251 

too  tall  to  wear  my  dresses,  unfortunately — 
and  you've  got  to  take  them.  I  was  going 
to  give  'em  to  the  Women's  Exchange  to 
sell  to  poor  folks.  We'll  rake  'em  over  pres- 
ently. But  the  first  thing  is  lunch  !  Gra- 
cious, my  dear,  you  don't  know  what  lunches 
I  get  up  for  myself  now  !  And  I  got  a  case 
of  that  lovely  Tokay,  you  know,  yesterday. 
One  can't  get  tight  on  it,  but  it  makes  you 
fat  and  jolly  and  takes  away  the  black  rings 
under  your  eyes.  By  Jove  !  I'm  glad  you 
happened  in  to-day — you  couldn't  have  hit 
me  in  a  better  spot !  Come  in  and  take  a 
look  at  my  larder ;  you've  got  to  learn  how 
we  bachelors  live,  you  know.  This  is  going 
to  be  a  spree  !  ' ' 

Truly,  what  a  thing  is  friendship  !  Sexual 
love  is  like  the  tropic  sunshine,  but  friend- 
ship is  like  the  broad,  constant,  helpful  day- 
light, blessing  all  the  world. 

The  two  girls  played  together,  Sabina's 
jollity  gradually  spreading  its  contagion  to 
her  friend.  And  the  latter,  knowing  that 
her  time  was  short,  threw  herself  into  the 
game  with  almost  too  much  energy.  Ever 
and  anon,  in  the  midst  of  the  laughing  and 
gayety,  a  sigh  would  come  up  from  the  dark- 
ling depths  and  break  upon  the  smiling  sur- 


252  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

face  ;  or  a  wave  of  strange  heat  would  flow 
into  her  cheeks  and  eyes  at  the  memory  of 
Scaramanga's  kiss.  Then,  conscious  of  Sa- 
bina's  glance,  she  would  laugh  once  more. 
There  were  moments  when  she  could  barely 
restrain  herself  from  burying  her  head  in  the 
kind  little  bachelor's  lap  and  sobbing  out 
the  whole  story.  But  she  would  not !  She 
clung  to  Sabina's  undoubting  faith  in  her  as 
to  the  one  good  thing  left  to  her,  and  she 
would  do  nothing  to  endanger  it.  Besides, 
the  secret  was  her  lover's  as  well  as  hers. 
Finally,  perhaps,  she  felt  that  if  she  told  she 
would  never  go  to  him,  and  that  sinister 
thought  held  her  more  strongly  than  either 
of  the  others. 

Toward  evening  Sabina,  at  Isabella's  re- 
quest, wrote  and  despatched  a  note  of  a  few 
lines  to  Mrs.  Sharingbourne,  saying  that  she 
was  going  to  make  her  friend  dine  and  spend 
the  night  with  her.  "  I'll  be  leaving  town 
before  long,"  she  added,  "and  mayn't  get 
another  chance  at  her. ' ' 

"  I  can't  help  feeling  awfully  sorry  about 
your  mother,  by  Jove  I  can't !  "  she  ob- 
served. "  Why  don't  you  tell  her  ?  She'd 
kick  at  first,  of  course ;  but  she's  as  good  as 
gold  at  bottom,  though  she  has  such  strict 


UNDERCURRENTS  253 

notions — the  old  folks  always  have,  you 
know.  And  she  loves  you  for  all  she's 
worth,  and  is  as  proud  of  you  as  a  peacock. 
She'd  come  round,  when  she  saw  you'd 
made  up  your  mind.  Just  tell  her  you  won't 
marry  Murgatroyd,  and  stick  it  out.  What 
if  she  did  fight  ?  Gracious  !  Fighting  is 
larks,  when  you  know  you're  going  to  win  !  " 

"  Tell  her  I  send  her  my  love,"  replied 
Isabella,  after  a  pause,  in  a  low  voice,  "and 
you  mustn't  ask  me  anything  more." 

Sabina  lifted  one  shoulder,  put  up  her  eye- 
brows, put  out  her  underlip,  wrote,  "  She 
makes  me  open  this  again  to  send  you  her 
dearest  love,"  quickly  folded  up  and  sealed 
the  note,  and  went  out  and  gave  it  to  the 
boy  in  the  passage. 

They  dined  at  half- past  six,  and  finished 
the  pint  bottle  of  Tokay  which  they  had  be- 
gun at  lunch.  Then  Sabina  said  : 

"  Now,  old  chap,  I've  got  tickets  to  the 
opera  ;  it's  the  last  night  of  the  season,  you 
know,  and  we'll  have  to  take  it  in.  That 
little  Letitia  is  singing  like  an  angel.  She's 
a  love.  Come  on  !  The  seats  are  in  the 
family  circle,  second  row,  so  there's  no  risk 
of  anybody  seeing  us." 

Isabella's  mood  had  now  undergone  a  re- 


254  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

action,  and  she  was  carelessly  compliant. 
So  they  put  on  their  things  and  sallied  forth, 
Sabina,  when  they  reached  the  pavement, 
pulling  up  her  little  collar,  shooting  down 
her  little  cuffs,  and  sticking  out  her  little  el- 
bow, with  "  Take  my  arm,  dear  !  " 

"  I  wish  I  could  live  with  you  always  !  " 
said  Isabella,  taking  it,  with  a  laugh  and  a 
sigh. 

The  theatre  was  packed  with  a  good-nat- 
ured, perspiring,  last-night  audience.  The 
two  girls,  from  their  position,  could  not  only 
hear  well,  but  could  see  everything  without 
being  seen.  The  charming  prima  donna 
never  was  more  charming  or  in  better  voice. 

"  Nothing  like  using  your  voice  for  fetch- 
ing up  your  general  condition,"  Sabina  re- 
marked. "  Singing's  the  best,  of  course, 
but  elocution  and  speaking  are  good  enough. 
Look  at  me,  how  fat  I'm  getting.  Look  at 
my  chest !  Put  your  hand  here  and  feel  of 
that  biceps  !  That's  what  you  want — some- 
thing to  work  your  lungs.  I  believe  you're 
going  to  be  the  great  tragic  actress.  Getting 
started  is  the  only  trouble.  But  I'll  give 
you  some  letters,  and  when  you're  settled 
I'm  coming  to  make  you  a  visit,  you  know. 
What's  the  matter,  dear  ?  " 


UNDERCURRENTS  255 

' '  Nothing.     Somebody  I  knew..' ' 

"Where?  Oh,  I  see.  I  don't  think 
he's  such  a  bad  sort,  do  you  know  ?  I  like 
him.  He's  not  handsome,  exactly,  but  he 
looks  like  a  man ;  a  woman  would  feel  safe 
with  him.  If  I  were  you  I'd  marry  him, 
after  all." 

"Marry.  .  .  .  What  do  you  mean  ? 
What  have  I  to  do  with  Mr.  Scaramanga?  " 

"  Scaramanga?  I'm  talking  of  Murga- 
troyd,  in  the  stage-box  there,  with  those 
three  fellows.  Who  are  they  ?  That  man 
with  eye-glasses  is  nice !  How  straight  and 
strong  he  holds  himself!  I  like  a  man  who 
has  respect  for  his  chest !  Look  at  that  big, 
stout  one  beside  him  ;  he  looks  like  what  I 
imagine  a  Dutch  Burgomaster.  But,  oh, 
my  dear,  get  on  to  the  curves  of  the  nose  of 
that  man  behind  him — Don  Quixote  to  a 
hair,  by  Jove  !  " 

"He's  a  music-teacher;  I  met  him  the 
other  day  ;  his  name  is  Scamell." 

"  Scamell — not  Scaramanga?  Where  is 
he?  Yes,  I've  got  him  now.  Just  strolled 
in  to  take  a  last  look  at  his  opera.  Well, 
he's  handsome,  but  he'll  never  really  think 
much  of  anybody  but  himself.  I  wouldn't 
trust  him  as  far  as  I  could  reach  !  There's 


256  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

more  real  solid  stuff  in  Murgy's  little  finger 
than  in  all  that  fine  slim  body  of  his.  One 
can  stand  him  at  a  dinner-table  once  in  a 
season  or  so,  but  fancy  living  with  such  a 
creature  all  one's  life.  I'd  break  all  the 
looking-glasses,  and  let  him  die  of  a  de- 
cline !  ' ' 

This  was  an  impromptu  inspiration  on 
Sabina's  part,  and  she  did  it  with  an  art  to 
deceive  the  very  elect.  Isabella  was  con- 
vinced that  it  was  an  opinion  without  ar- 
riere  pensee.  She  made  no  rejoinder,  and 
the  other  let  it  drop  there.  If  it  were  to  do 
good,  it  must  be  by  quiet  fermentation. 
Without  knowing  exactly  when  or  why, 
Sabina  had  by  this  time  made  up  her  mind 
that  Isabella  was  entangled  with  Scaramanga 
in  an  undesirable  way.  It  was  no  use  op- 
posing her  openly,  but  indirect  methods 
were  sometimes  effective.  Isabella  turned 
very  taciturn,  and  that  seemed  a  not  unhope- 
ful symptom  to  her  companion. 

The  opera  came  to  an  end  with  cheers 
and  flowers ;  the  curtain  went  down,  then 
went  up  again,  and  Letitia  sang  "  Auld 
Lang  Syne,"  with  the  audience  enthusiasti- 
cally chorusing.  A  huge  floral  emblem  was 
handed  over  the  foot-lights,  and  laid  hold  of 


UNDERCURRENTS  257 

with  smiles  and  courtesies  by  the  sparkling 
prirna  donna.  The  curtain  went  down  once 
more,  but  once  more  went  up,  and  this  time 
there  was  Scaramanga  with  Letitia's  hand 
in  his. 

"Speech  !     Speech  !  " 

Scaramanga  stepped  forward.  What  a 
graceful,  romantic  figure  !  But  he  certainly 
did  look  conceited.  What  was  he  saying  ? 
The  usual  things  !  Then  he  added  a  last 
word  : 

"  But  I  know — I  feel — that  I  could  never 
have  been  asked  to  stand  before  you  to-night 
on  my  own  merits.  It  is  to  this  lady  whose 
hand  I  hold  that  I  owe  this  reception.  She 
has  put  into  my  work  the  soul  which  alone 
renders  it  worthy.  I  owe  her  more  than  can 
ever  be  repaid.  She  more  than  fulfils  the 
ideal  that  I  had  conceived.  And  I  may  be 
permitted  to  hope,  in  your  interests  as  well 
as  in  my  own,  that  she  may  consent  to  con- 
tinue, in  the  future,  the  alliance  which  has 
been  so  precious  to  me  in  the  past.  I  can 
crave  no  worthier  or  more  fortunate  place  in 
your  memory  than  that  which  I  occupy  be- 
fore your  eyes  to-night — side  by  side  with 
Letitia  Valentine!  " 

The  audience  swarmed  out  and  trooped 
17 


258  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

down  the  winding  stairways,  wedged  to- 
gether, chatting,  laughing,  commenting. 
"  She's  a  daisy,  ain't  she?  "  said  a  man  in 
front  of  Isabella.  "She's  right  enough," 
replied  his  companion,  "  but  that  long-haired 
dude  makes  me  sick  to  my  stomach  !  "  "  He 
gave  her  a  good  send-off,  though  ;  she'll  be 
his  wife,  I  suppose?"  "Wife!  You  ain't 
half  on  to  the  racket !  She's  his  mistress — 
everybody  knows  that !  "  "  Get  out  !  By 
George !  these  theatre  fellows  get  the  soft 
snaps,  don' t  they  ?  "  To  this  mendacious 
and  unholy  dialogue  Sabina  listened  with 
unchristian  satisfaction,  indifferent  to  poor 
Letitia's  reputation  if  only  Isabella  were  ad- 
monished. The  latter  held  her  head  severely 
poised,  and  her  face  betrayed  no  sign.  After 
they  had  passed  the  door  and  were  still  in- 
volved in  the  throng  on  the  sidewalk  a  voice 
behind  Isabella's  shoulder  spoke  almost  in 
her  ear  : 

"  Five  hundred  thousand  dollars  !  Holy 
poker!  What  for?" 

"  Well,  he  thinks  his  money  was  what  she 
was  marrying  him  for,  and  he  wants  she 
should  have  it." 

"  I'd  see  my  girl  further  before  I'd  give 
her  half  a  million  for  jilting  me  !  " 


UNDERCURRENTS  259 

"  He  thinks  this  story  that's  coming  out 
to-morrow  gives  her  a  right  to  do  it.  And, 
having  a  fortune,  she  won't  make  a  fool  of 
herself  with  the  other  fellow. ' ' 

"  I  never  heard  such  darned  foolishness  !  ' ' 

"Well,  that's  the  sort  of  fool  Murgy  is. 
Easy,  here  he  comes,  and  Gabe  with  him." 

Isabella  recognized  the  first  voice  as  that 
of  the  long-nosed  music-teacher ;  the  second 
belonged  to  the  man  with  the  eyeglasses. 
But  what  were  they  talking  about  ? 

"  Shall  we  take  a  car  ?  "  asked  Sabina. 

"  Yes — what  ? — no ;  I'd  rather  walk. ' ' 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE    TIME    TO    HOPE    IS    WHEN    NOTHING'S 
LEFT    TO    HOPE    FOR 

As  Isabella  passed  along  the  streets  the 
next  morning,  on  her  way  to  the  railway 
station,  her  chief  preoccupation  was  to  shun 
a  chance  recognition ;  but  she  presently  no- 
ticed, with  a  passing  curiosity,  that  almost 
everyone  she  met  was  buried  in  a  news- 
paper. In  turning  the  corner  of  Transom 
Street,  she  all  but  collided  with  Mr.  William 
Walwine ;  but  he  did  not  see  her ;  he  had 
no  eyes  but  for  what  he  was  reading  in  the 
Constitution.  She  was  grateful  for  the  dis- 
traction ;  but  it  did  not  occur  to  her  to  buy 
a  paper  for  herself. 

She  bought  a  ticket  for  a  suburban  station 
about  five  miles  out  of  town.  There  were 
few  people  on  the  train  ;  the  tide  of  morning 
travel  sets  the  other  way.  Arrived  at  her 
destination,  she  alighted  and  took  a  trolley- 
car  to  a  point  twelve  miles  to  the  southward. 
The  trolley  line  crossed  another  railway 


THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  261 

here.  Isabella  left  her  car  and  went  into  the 
pretty  little  station  building,  with  its  wide, 
sweeping  eaves.  Upon  examining  the  time- 
table, she  found  that  the  next  outward-bound 
train  was  due  at  ten  minutes  past  ten.  There 
was  still  an  hour  to  wait. 

All  this  divagation  had  been  performed 
merely  in  order  to  throw  pursuit  off  the 
scent.  She  had  set  off  in  one  direction,  and 
was  now  headed  in  another.  It  was  Scara- 
manga's  Machiavellian  brain  that  had  de- 
vised the  ruse,  and  he  was  to  join  her  there 
and  accompany  her  on  her  further  journey. 

It  is  tiresome  work  waiting  anywhere,  but 
nowhere  more  so  than  in  an  out-of-town 
station,  where  there  is  nothing  to  amuse  one 
but  time-tables,  a  closed  ticket  office,  and 
empty  benches.  There  was,  however,  a  man 
sitting  in  a  corner  by  the  window  with  a 
paper  in  his  hands;  it  was  the  Constitution. 
He  was  reading  with  all  his  might.  Isabella 
surveyed  him  minutely  and  idly  from  top 
to  toe,  idly  wondered  what  this  wonderful 
piece  of  news  could  be  that  so  absorbed  the 
world  this  morning,  and  so  drifted  back  to 
her  own  thoughts,  unwelcome  though  these 
were. 

She   had   come  thus  far  not  from  desire 


262  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

but  from  necessity,  by  dint  of  an  impulse 
communicated  when  she  had  regarded  things 
in  a  light  other  than  she  did  now.  She  had 
burned  her  ships  and  must  on.  She  knew, 
now,  that  she  did  not  love  Scaramanga  as 
she  had  imagined  she  did  ;  the  glamour  was 
gone  from  him.  Had  all  been  well  and  or- 
derly, she  might,  perhaps,  have  been  con- 
tent to  marry  him  in  orthodox  fashion,  but 
to  throw  herself  thus  crudely  into  his  arms 
was  another  matter.  Was  he  a  man  of  tem- 
per and  stamina  to  protect  a  woman  and 
stand  by  her  against  the  world  ?  She  saw 
him  as  he  stood  on  the  stage  last  night,  his 
self-satisfied,  deferential  smiles,  his  artfully 
artless  grace,  his  thirsty  vanity,  which  an 
ocean  of  flattery  could  not  satiate — was  this 
a  character  to  give  up  the  world  for  a  wom- 
an and  think  it  well  lost?  Could  he,  who 
so  loved  baser  things,  make  love  the  lord  of 
all? 

Ah,  how  he  bowed  and  smirked,  and  tossed 
back  his  long  hair,  and  threw  noble  expres- 
sions into  the  lift  of  his  head  and  the  turn  of 
his  eyes !  She  had  admired  those  gestures 
in  their  private  converse,  but  it  seems  he 
lavished  them  upon  the  public  the  same  as 
upon  her !  Did  any  thought  of  her  enter 


THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  263 

his  mind  while  he  stood  there  bowing  and 
scraping,  with  Letitia's  hand  in  his?  Her 
hand  in  his  !  And  it  had  seemed  to  Isabella 
that  Letitia  had  more  than  once  tried  to  slip 
her  hand  away,  but  he  would  not  let  it  go. 
He  had  not  finished  his  speech,  in  which  this 
hand-clasp  was  to  play  a  part.  ' '  My  ideal, ' ' 
he  had  called  her !  Yes,  it  was  very  likely. 
Had  what  that  man  said  on  the  stairs  been 
true?  Isabella  bit  her  lips.  Perhaps  so; 
perhaps  not ;  but  Scaramanga's  behavior  had 
been  not  unsuggestive  of  such  a  possibility, 
and  on  the  very  eve,  too,  of  their  elope- 
ment !  With  all  his  handsomeness,  his  poses, 
and  his  cleverness,  he  was  not  a  man  whom 
indifferent  persons  respected ;  they  laughed 
at  him  ;  they  despised  him.  Ah,  she  would 
little  have  minded  that,  could  she  have  as- 
sured herself  that  she  knew  any  reason  why 
she  should  not  despise  him,  too.  And  yet 
his  kisses  were  on  her  lips.  She  had  told 
him  that  .  .  .  She  sprang  from  her 
seat  in  bitter  rage  against  herself  and  paced 
up  and  down  the  room.  The  man  in  the 
corner  continued  to  read  his  paper,  getting 
his  breath  now  and  then,  delayed  by  the 
spell  of  the  narrative. 

"  There's  more  real  stuff  in  Murgy's  little 


264  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

finger  than  in  all  that  fine,  slim  body  of  his !  " 
"I'd  break  all  the  looking-glasses  and  let 
him  die  of  a  decline!  "  Sabina  had  said 
those  things.  "  At  a  dinner-table,  yes  ;  but 
all  one's  life  !  " 

' '  I  must  have  been  insane  !  ' '  muttered 
Isabella  to  herself.  "  Stark,  staring  mad  ! 
Yes ;  it  is  easy  to  scold  now,  but  here  I  am  ! 
And  he  will  be  here  directly,  with  those 
same  smiles  and  attitudes.  Did  he  kiss  Le- 
titia  when  the  curtain  went  down  last  night  ? 
Did  he  bend  over  her  and  look  into  her 
eyes,  and  say,  '  Look  at  me,  darling  !  ' 
Faugh  !  Am  I  jealous  ?  ' ' 

The  man  finished  his  reading.  He  threw 
down  the  paper  on  the  bench  beside  him, 
stared  into  vacancy  for  a  few  moments,  said 
"  Humph !  "  and  got  up  to  look  out  of  the 
window.  Then  he  glanced  at  his  watch. 
Suddenly  the  ticket  window  opened.  The 
down  train  was  due  in  five  minutes — not 
Isabella's  train.  The  man  went  up  to  the 
window  and  engaged  in  conversation  with 
the  ticket-seller.  "  Great  yarn  !  "  Isabella 
heard  one  say  ;  and  they  laughed.  "  Here 
she  comes  ! ' '  remarked  the  ticket-man,  and 
he  closed  the  window  and  went  out  on  the 
platform,  followed  by  the  other.  The  train 


THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  265 

rolled  in,  paused,  and  panted  off  again. 
Isabella  was  alone. 

"  I  wish  I'd  gone  back  on  it !  "  thought 
she.  "  No  ;  I  can't  go  back.  I  have  no 
place  in  the  world.  I  must  stay  here  till  he 
comes  and  then  tell  him  ...  He  will 
begin  to  argue,  I  suppose.  Why  should  I  be 
angry  with  him  ?  It  is  all  my  fault.  I  was 
engaged,  and  I  encouraged  him.  He  is  the 
same  to-day  that  he  has  always  been — not  a 
bit  different  or  worse.  What  has  a  girl  to 
expect  who  has  done  as  I  have  ?  He  offered 
to  marry  me,  and  I  said  no  !  Well,  I  have 
seen  what  comes  of  marriage;  if  anything 
could  be  worse  than  this,  it  would  be  mar- 
riage. But  is  there  any  need  of  either  ? 
There's  Sabina.  But  I  can't  make  a  living 
like  Sabina.  I  can  lie  down  on  the  track 
when  the  train  comes  in.  Seven  hundred 
dollars — that's  all !  Why  not  as  well  end 
it  now  as  then  ?  Or  shall  I  go  back  to  town 
and  marry  the  richest  man  .  .  .  What 
did  they  mean  about  half  a  million  dollars  ? 
'  Having  a  fortune,  she  won't  make  a  fool 
of  herself  with  the  other  fellow  !  '  Oh,  non- 
sense !  " 

She  walked  over  to  the  window  in  sombre 
meditation.  She  picked  up  a  newspaper, 


266  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

looked  at  the  heading,  stood  reading  a  mo- 
ment and  then  sat  down,  still  reading.  The 
spell  that  had  entranced  the  rest  of  the 
world  had  reached  her  at  last.  She  read 
and  became  insensible  to  everything  else. 
She  did  not  hear  a  hack  drive  up  and  stop 
at  the  door  of  the  station  ten  minutes  before 
the  train  was  due.  She  did  not  notice  the 
opening  of  the  door  and  the  entrance  of  a 
young  gentleman  in  a  straw  hat  and  a  suit 
of  blue  serge.  But  presently  she  became 
conscious  that  he  was  standing  in  front  of 
her,  and  she  looked  up.  The  paper  rustled 
sharply  in  her  hands  as  she  rose  to  her  feet. 
It  was  not  Scaramanga — it  was  Murgatroyd  ! 
' '  He's  all  right — Scaramanga' s  all  right ! ' ' 
were  his  first  words,  hastily  spoken,  with  a 
smile,  to  forestall  her  anxiety.  "It's  been 
arranged  differently,  that's  all.  I  came  on  to 
let  you  know.  Miss  Sabina  would  have 
come  with  me,  but  she's  gone  to  take  care 
of  your  mother — she  isn't  very  well,  your 
mother.  I  guess  it's  nothing  very  bad — but 
they  call  it  a  slight  stroke  of  paralysis.  I 
could  drive  you  back.  But  if  we  wait  for 
the  next  down  train  we'll  get  there  just  as 
soon,  and  it'll  give  me  a  chance  to  tell  you 
— to  say  some  things — come  to  a  friendly 


THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  267 

understanding,  you  know.  I  hope  we  shall 
be  good  friends  after  this.  I  want  to  be 
with  you,  I'm  sure.  Oh,  you  got  a  paper  !  " 

"  Paralysis  !  " 

"Only  a  light  touch  of  it.  It  prevents 
her  talking  a  little,  but  there's  no  danger. 
Horace — Dr.  Maydwell — I  got  him  to  see 
her  the  moment  I  heard ;  he  says  people 
live  years  after  it.  It's  an  inconvenience, 
of  course,  but " 

"Poor  mamma!  I'm  glad  I  sent  her 
.  .  .  Sit  down,  please,  I'm  rather  con- 
fused. Mr.  Whiterduce,  I — have  no  right 
to — this  kindness  from  you.  I  ... 
But  you  spoke  of  him — oh — then  you  know 
— oh  !  ' '  She  did  not  blush ;  the  blood 
rushed  to  her  heart  and  left  her  face  deadly 
pale. 

"  Hold  on,  let  me  tell  you  !  "  He  sat 
down  by  her,  his  face  full  of  solicitude  and 
earnestness.  "  It's  come  out  first  rate;  just 
as  you'd  wish — better,  if  anything  !  Well, 
you've  read  the  paper,  so  there'll  be  that 
much  less  for  me  to  bother  you  with.  Of 
course,  now  that  we  know  who  I  am — or 
who  I'm  not,  rather— rit  would  never  do  to 
hold  you  to  the  engagement.  I'm  not  the 
fellow  you  thought  you  were  going  to  marry, 


268  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

and  a  contract  made  under  a  false  under- 
standing's no  good.  I'd  have  let  you  off 
before,  for  I  thought  you  didn't  seem  quite 
to — well,  I  can't  put  it  in  a  nice  way,  but  I 
could  see  you  didn't  like  the  idea  much; 
and  I  had  sense  enough  to  know  myself  that 
I  wasn't  anywhere  near  up  to  the  sort  of  man 
you  ought  to  have.  I'd  have  let  you  off, 
only  I  was  afraid  people  might  think  some- 
thing that  wasn't  so,  you  see;  and  I  knew 
you  wouldn't  break  the  engagement  your- 
self, because  your  mother  wanted  it  to  go 
on,  on  account  of  the  advantages — I  mean, 
in  spite  of  my  being  not  agreeable  myself; 
so,  altogether,  there  seemed  to  be  no  way 
out.  But  now  this  discovery  about  me 
makes  it  all  straight.  Nobody  would  ex- 
pect you  not  to  break  the  engagement  now  ; 
you  couldn't  do  anything  else;  and  your 
mother — well,  I've  fixed  it  so  she'll  be  satis- 
fied, too.  And "  He  stopped,  look- 
ing embarrassed  ;  but  in  a  moment  his  hon- 
est smile  shone  out  again,  and  he  went  on  : 

"  About  Scaramanga,  you  know.  In  the 
first  place,  you  don't  need  to  think  I'm  do- 
ing anything  generous  in  giving  you  up  to 
him.  I  don't  mean  that  there  is  any  girl 
better  worth  having  than  you  ;  I  don't  be- 


THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  269 

lieve  there  is.  All  I  mean  is,  you're  not  my 
sort ;  you  care  about  society,  and  fine  things, 
and  I  get  on  better  with  low  things  and 
commonplace  people — as  is  natural,  for  I'm 
one  of  the  commonest  of  the  lot  myself.  So 
I  should  always  be  disgusting  you,  without 
being  able  to  help  it,  and  that  would  make 
me  feel  bad ;  and  the  more  I  cared  for  you 
the  worse  I'd  feel.  So,  in  giving  you  up  to 
him,  I'm  only  being  kind  to  myself.  And 
he's  just  the  right  sort  of  fellow  for  you — I 
can  see  that ;  he's  clever,  and  good-looking, 
and  elegant — if  I  was  to  practise  a  hundred 
years  I  never  could  get  to  do  things  and  be- 
have the  way  he  does,  let  alone  look  like 
him  ;  he's  like  a  man  in  a  picture  or  on  the 
stage.  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  a  speech 
he  made  last  night  at  the  opera ;  it  would 
have  just  suited  you ;  and  I  could  no  more 
have  done  it  than  I  could  .  .  .  How- 
ever, I  can  see  that  he  ought  to  have  you, 
and  then  I  can  see,  too,  that  you  did  just 
right,  when  you  found  you  cared  for  him,  in 
arranging  to  marry  him ;  because  no  girl 
could  marry  one  man  when  she  was  in  love 
with  another;  it  would  make  all  three  of 
them  miserable,  and  do  nobody  any  good. 
And  it  was  mighty  plucky  starting  off  with- 


270  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

out  any  money  except  what  you  two  could 
make  yourselves ;  though  I  do  wish  you 
hadn't  thought  I  was  such  a  fellow  that  I 
wasn't  fit  to  have  you  tell  me  about  it,  and 
wouldn't  want  to  make  it  comfortable  for 
you  in  the  only  way  I  could.  I'm  not  bad 
in  the  sense  that  I  like  to  do  mean  things, 
and  least  of  all  to  you  !  However,  it'll  be 
all  right  now.  I  had  a  talk  with  Scaramanga 
this  morning,  and  you'll  be  able  to  start 
housekeeping  with  something  .  .  .  No, 
I'm  not  giving  you  anything  ;  it's  only  the 
money  that  I  was  going  to  settle  anyway  on 
your  mother  when  we  married  ;  and  she  can 
let  you  have  enough  so  as  to  be  comforta- 
ble. Of  course,  I  couldn't  take  it  back  just 
because  it  turned  out  to  be  better  all  round 
that  you  should  marry  Scaramanga  instead 
of  me.  I  explained  that  to  him,  and  he  un- 
derstands it  perfectly,  and  thinks  the  same  as 
I  do  about  it ;  you  have  nothing  to  do  with 
it  anyway." 

"  How  much  money  is  this?  " 
"  Well,  that's  for  your  mother  to  say.  I 
guess  she'll  give  you  enough,  but  as  she's 
sick  I  couldn't  talk  to  her  about  it.  You 
and  she  and  Scaramanga  can  fix  that  to  suit 
yourselves  afterward.  It's  out  of  my  hands, 


THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  271 

you  see.  But  what  I  was  going  to  say  is, 
that  I'd  thought  I'd  better  come  out  here 
after  you,  instead  of  having  him  come  ;  be- 
cause until  it's  known  that  our  engagement's 
off,  it's  better  you  should  be  seen  coming 
back  with  me  than  with  him.  Besides,  I 
wanted  to  have  this  talk  with  you ;  I  may 
not  have  another  chance." 

"  Are  you  going  away  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  I've  nowhere  to  go  in  particu- 
lar ;  but  I  shan't  see  your  kind  of  people  any 
more,  of  course,  so  it'll  be  about  the  same  as 
if  we  lived  in  different  places.  Besides, 
Scaramanga  said  something  about  taking  you 
to  Europe  after  you  were  married.  No,  I 
guess  most  likely  I'll  never  see  you  again 
to  speak  to.  But  I  wanted  you  should  know 
what  I  felt,  so  we  could  part  friends."  He 
was  silent  a  moment  and  then  added :  "I 
have  always  acted  like  a  fool  with  you — even 
more  of  a  fool  than  I  am  with  other  people. 
I  didn't  know  what  being  engaged  meant,  at 
first,  nor  being  married  either,  for  that  mat- 
ter; I  didn't  know  what  loving  people  meant 
— a  man  loving  a  woman,  I  mean.  It  all 
seemed  to  be  something  arranged  for  you  by 
somebody  else,  and  all  you  had  to  do  was  sit 
round  and  do  nothing.  I  guess  you  must 


2 72  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

have  wanted  to  kill  me  sometimes,  when  I 
used  to  come  and  sit  up  there  with  you.  I 
was  nothing  but  a  sort  of  overgrown  child  ; 
I  knew  no  better  ;  I  supposed  that  was  the 
way  to  do.  I'm  not  quite  so  bad  as  that 
no\v.  I've  had  things  happen  to  me  that 
have  made  me  know  what  it  is  to  love,  and 
to  be  sorry,  and  to  hate,  too  !  And  I  think 
I  can  understand  now  that  the  man  who  is 
good  enough  to  marry  you,  and  that  you 
love,  must  be  the  happiest  man  in  the  world. 
I  can  understand  that  the  same  as  I  can  that 
there  are  stars  a  thousand  times  greater  and 
more  beautiful  than  this  earth  I  live  on, 
though  I  can  never  live  on  them  or  come 
near  them.  But  I  believe  that  the  right  kind 
of  people  do  live  on  them,  and  I  like  to 
think  how  happy  they  must  be  there,  though 
I  myself  can  have  nothing  to  do  with  such 
things." 

Isabella  was  sitting  all  this  time  with  her 
hands  relaxed  in  her  lap,  and  not  wearing 
that  bright  and  joyful  expression  that  might 
have  been  expected  in  one  of  her  fortunate 
destiny.  Her  ordinarily  brilliant  eyes  had  a 
film  over  them ;  the  corners  of  her  proud 
mouth  drooped ;  she  looked  not  proud,  but 
humiliated.  And,  after  a  while,  she  turned 


THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  273 

partly  round  and  rested  her  arms  on  the  sill 
of  the  window  and  pillowed  her  face  on 
them ;  and  so  she  remained  a  long  time. 
She  was  not  weeping ;  perhaps  she  was  not 
even  thinking,  but  she  was  passing  from  one 
state  of  life  to  another ;  her  nature  was  un- 
dergoing a  change.  She  had  learned  of  the 
existence  of  something  of  which  she  had  not 
even  dreamed  —  something  strong,  simple, 
gentle,  unselfish.  But  it  was  not  for  her. 

Murgatroyd  got  up  and  walked  about  the 
room,  stepping  lightly  so  as  not  to  disturb 
her.  He  thought  his  presence  distressed  her, 
but  there  was  no  help  for  that.  And  the 
train  that  was  to  carry  them  to  town  would 
soon  be  here. 

It  came,  and  Isabella,  with  a  strange  sort 
of  meekness  and  dependence,  got  up  and  let 
him  lead  her  out  of  the  station  and  help  her 
into  the  car  and  find  her  a  seat.  "  I  guess 
I'll  go  forward  and  smoke  a  cigarette,"  said 
he;  "I'll  be  back  before  we  get  in."  He 
went,  and  if  she  wished  to  feel  alone  she  had 
her  wish. 

As  the  train  drew  into  the  shadow  of  the 

great  depot  he  reappeared,  meeting  her  eyes 

with  a  certain  shy,  deprecating  good-will. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  go  straight  home  ?  " 

18 


274  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

said  he.  "  You  won't  mind  my  driving 
there  with  you  ?  It'll  only  be  a  few  minutes. 
Sabina's  there,  you  know.  I  told  Scara- 
manga ' ' 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  him,  Mr.  Whiter- 
duce,"  interrupted  she,  in  an  humble,  be- 
seeching tone,  that  astonished  him.  ' '  If 
these  are  to  be  our  last  moments  together  I 
would  rather  think  of  something  else.  You 
have  been  kind  to  me;  I  never  knew  till 
now  what  kindness  was.  Can't  I  see  you 
once  more,  after  a  day  or  two  ?  ' ' 

"Why,  to  be  sure  you  can,  if  you  want 
to  !  "  he  replied,  almost  laughing  with  sur- 
prise. "  I  should  think  so  !  " 

"  I  can't  say  anything  now — I  don't  know 
what  to  say.  I  want  to  say  something, 
though;  perhaps  I  could  in  a  day  or  two." 

"All  right ;  whenever  you  like.  Shall  I 
come  day  after  to-morrow?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  please.  Then  I  shall  expect 
you  day  after  to-morrow.  Will  you  come  in 
the  morning  ?  ' ' 

"Any  time  you  like." 

"Well,  in  the  morning,  then.  Forty- 
eight  hours  from  now.  Don't  forget.  But 
I  know  you  won't." 

They  got  into  the  hack  and  drove  to  her 


THE  TIME  TO  HOPE  275 

house.  She  leaned  up  in  the  corner  and 
nothing  was  said  on  the  way.  As  he  was 
about  to  leave  her  on  the  doorstep  she  put 
out  her  hand,  and  he  took  it ;  and  the  mo- 
mentary glance  she  gave  him  troubled  his 
memory  long  after. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

SO    RUNS    THE    WORLD    AWAY 

During  this  interval  of  eight  and  forty 
hours  one  event  of  which  knowledge  came 
to  Murgatroyd  gave  him  great  perplexity 
and  pain.  It  concerned  Scaramanga.  This 
young  gentleman  and  genius  had  abruptly 
set  out  for  Europe,  and  it  was  said  that  he 
would  not  return  for  three  years.  He  was 
going  to  write  an  opera  in  Vienna ;  he  had 
received  advantageous  offers  from  somebody, 
for  something  —  such  were  the  rumors. 
Surely  this  was  very  sudden,  thought  Mur- 
gatroyd ;  and  what  did  it  mean  for  Isabel- 
la? Was  she  going  over  to  join  him?  Or 
was  it  possible  they  had  quarrelled?  "If 
she  shouldn't  be  happy  after  all,"  thought 
Murgatroyd,  "  what  should  I  do?  " 

Accordingly  he  went  to  fulfil  his  appoint- 
ment in  an  anxious  frame  of  mind.  The 
door  was  opened  to  him  by  Sabina — one 
might  almost  think  she  had  been  watching 
out  of  the  window.  "  How  are  you  ?  "  she 


SO  RUNS  THE   WORLD  AWAY         277 

said  cordially,  giving  him  a  stout  handshake. 
"I'm  glad  to  see  you  !  Before  you  see  Isa- 
bella I  want  to  have  a  word  with  you. 
Come  into  the  dining-room." 

He  followed  her  to  the  room  designated. 
She  took  up  a  position  on  the  hearth-rug, 
with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her  and  her 
immaculate  little  white  collar  stiff  under  her 
plump  chin,  like  a  little  bachelor  as  she  was. 
Murgatroyd  leaned  against  the  table  before 
her  in  silent  apprehension. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Mr.  Whiterduce,  I  like 
you  ;  I'm  your  friend,  and  I'm  Isabella's 
too.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  some  facts. 
Isabella  doesn't  know  it;  if  she  did  she'd 
forbid  me,  but  nothing  venture  nothing 
have;  and  look  here,  if  you  find  I'm  getting 
off  the  track  you  stop  me  right  there,  do  you 
understand  ?  I  don't  want  to  give  Isabella 
away  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I'm  resolved, 
by  Jove,  that  a  good  thing  shan't  be  lost  be- 
cause people  hadn't  the  sense  or  the  courage 
to  open  their  mouths  and  say  what  was  in 
'em.  You  get  me,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  It's  about  that  money,"  faltered  Mur- 
gatroyd. "I've  been  thinking  that  I  ought 
to  have  given  it  straight  to  Scaramanga  and 
said  nothing  to  her  about  it.  Naturally 


278  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

she'd  rather  have  it  from  him  than  from  me. 
It  was  a  beastly  blunder,  but  I  never  think 
of  the  right  thing  at  the  right  time.  Can't 
it  be  fixed  up  somehow?  Can't  you  think 
of  something  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  I  have  thought  of  something.  But 
before  we  come  to  that  let  me  advise  you 
not  to  make  Scaramanga  the  topic  of  your 
conversation  with  Isabella.  She  can't 
stand  it." 

"  They've  had  a  row,  then  ?  Is  that  why 
he  went  to  Europe  ?  What  was  the  trouble  ? 
Can't  I  explain  it  to  'em  ?  I'll  start  right 
after  him  on  the  next  steamer,  if  you  say  so. 
I'll  engage  to  bring  him  back  !  They're  both 
proud,  of  course,  and — but " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  would  be  a  grand 
scheme,  Mr.  Whiterduce — for  you  to  keep 
quiet  for  a  few  minutes  and  listen  to  me.  If 
you  were  to  bring  that  creature  back  to  Isa- 
bella she'd  probably  kill  him.  And  I  ex- 
pect he'd  rather  die  some  other  way  than 
come.  There  is  no  misunderstanding  be- 
tween her  and  him  whatever ;  she  thinks  he 
is  about  the  most  contemptible  cad  afloat, 
and  he  knows  she  thinks  so,  because  she  told 
him  so.  That's  plain,  I  hope." 

He  looked  steadily  at  her.     "  How  can 


SO  RUNS  THE   WORLD  AWAY         279 

that  be  ?    Three  days  ago  they    .     .     .    Le- 
titia  was  in  the  little  dressing-room,  and  she 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  and  I  honor  her  for  do- 
ing it  !  She  helped  avert  a  terrible  mistake, 
that  might  have  ended,  for  all  we  know,  in 
another  Judith  and  Holofernes  case — not 
that  Scaramanga  is  much  in  the  Holofernes 
style,  Heaven  knows  ;  more  the  Robert  Ma- 
caire,  I  should  say.  I'm  not  a  marrying 
woman,  myself,  Mr.  Whiterduce,  but  I  can 
put  you  up  to  two  facts  about  them — a  wom- 
an can  persuade  herself — and  she  not  only 
can,  but  for  some  reason  she's  exceedingly 
apt  to  do  it — that  she  adores  a  man  whom 
she  really  detests,  and  hates  one  whom  she 
really  loves.  Some  day,  when  I  can  see  a 
week's  clear  leisure  ahead,  I  may  try  and  ex- 
plain to  you  why  that  is  so ;  but  we  have  no 
time  for  it  this  morning.  But  Isabella  is  an 
illustration  in  point ;  she  imagined  she  cared 
for  Scaramanga — she  made  him  a  sort  of 
clothes-horse  on  which  she  hung  out  all  the 
beautiful  garments  of  heroism  and  idealism 
that  her  imagination  had  been  weaving  in 
the  secret  places  of  her  heart ;  and  she 
thought  she  hated  .  .  .  However, 
wait  a  minute ;  we're  not  come  to  that  yet. 


280  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

What  are  you  thinking  of  doing  with  your- 
self? Now  that  your  engagement  is  off  I 
suppose  you  have  some  other  girl  in  your 
eye  ?  I'm  not  inquisitive  in  the  least — don't 
make  any  mistake  about  that !  But  I  suppose 
if  Miss  Letitia,  for  instance " 

' '  I  shall  never  marry  anybody, ' '  inter- 
posed Murgatroyd,  with  great  seriousness. 
"  As  for  Letty,  she  jokes  about  it  with  the 
fellows  ;  she  jokes  about  everything ;  but  she 
wouldn't  have  me  if  I  was  to  ask  her,  and  I 
wouldn't  ask  her  anyway.  You  see,  it's  this 
way.  I'm  spoilt  both  ways.  I  can't  care 
for  girls  in  my  own  class  of  life,  and  the  girls 
in  the  other  class  wouldn't  look  at  me.  But 
let's  not  waste  time  about  that ;  I  want  to 
hear  about  Isabella.  Is  she  unhappy  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  I  expect  she  is,"  replied  Sabina, 
stroking  her  chin.  "She  is  a  girl  of  very 
deep  and  strong  feelings,  and  she  needs  some- 
one to  love  her,  and  that  she  can  love.  She 
feels  that  she  has  made  a  mess  of  her  life  ;  she 
is  awfully  ashamed  of  herself ;  she'd  give  any- 
thing to  recall  her  mistakes,  but  she  thinks, 
like  so  many  people,  that  the  past  not  only 
can't  be  recalled,  but  that  one  can't  remedy 
past  errors.  Of  course,  the  whole  history  of 
the  human  race  proves  the  contrary,  but  that's 


SO  RUNS  THE  WORLD  AWAY        281 

nothing.  What  a  girl  in  her  state  of  mind 
wants  is  not  the  whole  human  race,  but  just 
one  man — the  right  man,  you  understand." 

"  What  does  she  mean  to  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  there's  no  telling  what  broken- 
hearted women  may  do ;  die,  perhaps,  or 
go  into  a  convent. ' ' 

"Die?     Oh!     .     .     ." 

"And  yet,  by  a  turn  of  the  hand,  she 
might  be  made  the  happiest  woman  going !  " 

"How?" 

"  By  the  right  man,  I  tell  you  !  " 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Murgatroyd 
slowly  lifted  his  head  and  stared  at  Sabina  as 
a  man  on  a  desert  island  might  try  to  make 
out  through  the  mists  the  outlines  of  a  ship. 
It  must  be  admitted  that  Sabina  did  her  best 
to  render  those  outlines  distinct. 

Suddenly  he  stood  erect ;  his  face  reddened 
all  over,  and  he  drove  his  fist  down  heavily 
against  the  table. 

"I  want  to  see  Isabella,"  he  said,  in  a 
sort  of  deep  shout ;  "I  want  to  go  to  her  !  " 

"You'll  find  her  upstairs,"  said  Sabina. 
When  he  had  gone  she  fetched  a  long  breath, 
wiped  her  temples  with  her  handkerchief  and 
murmured,  "  By  George  !  " 


282  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

No  available  record  of  the  interview  be- 
tween Isabella  and  Murgatroyd  exists. 

A  year  went  by.  The  trial  of  the  crim- 
inals in  the  great  conspiracy  was  somewhat 
of  a  fiasco,  and  is  not  worth  describing.  In 
the  first  place,  Patrick  Barrable  succeeded  in 
committing  suicide  in  jail.  Then,  the  gov- 
ernment decided  not  to  allow  Hemynge  to 
turn  State's  evidence.  He  was  not  actively 
connected  with  the  conspiracy ;  but  he  was 
convicted  of  embezzlement  and  was  sen- 
tenced to  a  term  in  State's  Prison.  Among 
the  audience  that  heard  him  condemned  there 
were  few  who  sympathized  with  him ;  per- 
haps only  one  did  so — the  aged  woman  whose 
withered  face  watched  him  led  away  with 
such  a  ghastly  look.  When  the  court  ad- 
journed she  was  led  respectfully  out  by  the 
officers,  hobbling  feebly  on  her  crutches. 
Mrs.  Dorothy  Tiptoft's  death  was  announced 
a  month  later.  There  were  long  and  reada- 
ble obituaries,  recounting  her  brilliant  social 
career,  extending  over  more  than  seventy 
years,  from  her  debut  to  her  death.  The 
Rev.  Christopher  Plukerose  Agabag  preached 
her  funeral  sermon,  and  his  wife  shed  tears 
as  she  listened  to  him  in  the  front  pew.  At 
the  St.  Quentin  Club,  afterward,  her  innu- 


SO  RUNS  THE  WORLD  AWAY         283 

merable  witticisms,  bright  sayings,  and  hu- 
morous anecdotes  were  recalled.  To  few 
women  is  it  allotted  to  live  so  long,  so  for- 
tunate, and  so  happy  a  life. 

With  Hemynge's  conviction  the  case 
against  the  conspirators  imperceptibly  died 
away.  There  seemed  to  be  nobody  to  prose- 
cute. It  came  to  be  thought  that  Blackmer 
Risdon  was  no  less  noteworthy  as  a  man  of 
imagination  than  as  a  news-getter.  Society 
settled  quietly  down  again  to  its  work,  its 
play,  and  its  problems.  There  were  gaps 
in  the  ranks  here  and  there,  but  they  were 
filled  up  and  forgotten.  Verinder  Vyse  and 
Stukely  Poyntell  renewed  their  jousts  of  wit 
at  fashionable  dinner-tables,  not  saying  many 
radically  new  things,  perhaps,  but  giving  a 
fresh  turn  to  the  old,  trustworthy  ones. 
Aubert  Frewin  painted  a  fine  wall  decoration 
for  the  new  court-house,  representing  a.fin- 
de-siecle  version  of  the  Search  for  the  Holy 
Grail.  He  is  making  a  great  deal  of  money 
by  his  excellent  portraits. 

Toward  the  end  of  this  twelvemonth, 
Murgatroyd  Whiterduce  gave  a  dinner  to  a 
few  of  his  old  friends.  He  did  not  live  in 
the  old  Whiterduce  mansion,  but  in  a  much 
smaller  and  more  modest  dwelling.  In  fact. 


284  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

Pynchepole  Whiterduce's  fortune  turned  out 
to  be  very  much  smaller  than  had  been 
supposed.  He  must  have  expended  enor- 
mous sums  on  his  pet  conspiracy,  and  Mur- 
gatroyd  was  anything  but  respectful  to  what 
remained.  He  bestowed  large  endowments 
on  various  public  and  private  institutions, 
and  built  a  fine  college  and  theatre  for  the 
especial  behoof  of  musical  and  dramatic  stu- 
dents, who  were  instructed  according  to  a 
new  method,  whose  ablest  exponent,  Mr. 
Polydore  Scamell,  was  made  chief  director. 
Upon  the  whole,  Murgatroyd  had  few  at- 
tractions to  offer  to  fashionable  society,  and 
his  house  was  not  overrun  with  its  representa- 
tives. 

The  guests  upon  the  present  occasion  were 
Miss  Sabina  Estengrewe,  Dr.  Horace  Mayd- 
well,  Director  Scamell,  Mr.  Gabriel  Negus, 
and,  at  the  end  of  the  evening,  Miss  Letitia 
Valentine,  who  just  dropped  in  for  fifteen 
minutes  after  the  opera  to  sing  one  song 
and  drink  a  cup  of  hot  bouillon. 

"  How  many  colleges  have  you  endowed 
altogether,  Murgy  ?  ' '  asked  Sabina. 

"  There's  one  I  never  endowed,  though 
it's  the  only  one  where  you  really  learn  any- 
thing," he  replied. 


SO  RUNS  THE  WORLD  AWAY        285 

"What's  that,  the  Reformatory?"  in- 
quired Letitia. 

"The  world  !  "  replied  Murgatroyd,  sol- 
emnly. 

' '  Gracious !  Listen  to  the  philosopher ! ' ' 
exclaimed  Sabina,  with  a  laugh.  "  All  the 
world  has  taught  me  is  the  moral  and  pe- 
cuniary value  of  women's  tongues — and  that's 
a  thing  that  all  women  know  by  instinct. 
What  has  it  taught  you?  " 

' '  Well,  I  found  the  thing  I  care  for  most 
in  the  place  I  cared  least  for,  so  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  only  reason  we 
don't  see  good  things  everywhere  is  because 
we  haven't  good  eyes.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
you,  Sabina,  I'd  have  missed  seeing  the  one 
thing  on  earth  I  was  looking  for  hardest." 

"  Why,  my  dear,  you  talk  in  epigrams  and 
riddles,  like  a  graduate  of  St.  Quentin !  " 
remarked  Horace. 

"  There's  one  thing  the  world  hasn't 
taught  Horace,"  put  in  Gabriel,  sending 
his  slow,  humorous  glance  round  the  circle. 
"It  hasn't  taught  him  how  to  make  hair 
grow ! ' '  And  he  bowed  forward  in  a  noise- 
less chuckle. 

"  That  is  a  problem  which  no  longer  en- 
grow-ses  my  attention,"  the  witty  doctor  re- 


286  A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

joined.  "Well,  I  used  to  be  an  anarchist, 
to  some  extent,  but  the  affair  in  which  all 
the  anarchists  I  ever  knew  got  mixed  up 
turned  out  to  be  a  despotism ;  so  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  let  things  go  as  they 
are.  But  I  don't  know  as  there's  much  of 
a  lesson  in  that.  What  is  the  secret  of  the 
universe,  Gabe  ?  You  ought  to  know  !  ' ' 

"  Well,  folks  pay  me  two  dollars  to  tell 
'em  what's  going  to  happen  to  'em ;  and  I 
do  it,"  said  the  soothsayer,  foldin'g  his  hands 
over  his  stomach;  "but  the  real  secret  of 
the  universe,  as  far  as  I  could  ever  learn  it, 
is,  that  unless  what's  coming  to  folks  happens 
to  be  what  they  want  they  don't  believe  it 
till — after — it's — come!  So,  as  far  as  practi- 
cal results  to  them  go,  I  reckon  I'm  two  dol- 
lars ahead  of  the  game  every  trip  !  " 

"  What  is  your  philosophy,  Poly?  "  asked 
Horace ;  "  we'll  have  to  diagnose  the  whole 
gang,  since  we've  begun  !  " 

"The  world  has  taught  me  that  there's 
nothing  like  the  method,"  the  faithful  Poly- 
dore  promptly  responded  ;  "  and  now  I'm 
busy  teaching  it  back  to  'em  !  " 

"  Well,  your  reply  has  one  advantage — it 
confirms  the  general  anticipation  !  "  Gabriel 
observed.  "  But  we  haven't  heard  from  our 


SO  RUNS  THE  WORLD  AWAY         287 

good  hostess  yet,"  he  added;  "I  guess 
she'll  be  the  one  to  ring  the  bell,  after  all !  " 

"Oh,  I'm  only  learning  how  to  love  my 
husband  and  my  baby,"  said  Isabella,  look- 
ing round  with  a  smile,  which  finally  rested 
upon  Murgatroyd. 

Sabina  kissed  her.  Letitia  jumped  up, 
saying:  "Well,  girls  and  boys,  it's  time  I 
was  in  bed ! ' '  and  just  then  Sally  Wintle 
came  in  with  the  whiskey  and  seltzer. 


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